


Her god is my enemy

by A Cooper Writer Crafter (SilkCut)



Category: Death Note
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 20:55:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6393436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilkCut/pseuds/A%20Cooper%20Writer%20Crafter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the year 2014 when brutal justice is motivated by lust for power. A pagan religion has emerged for Kira and a battle unfinished between greatest foes with their souls in anomaly will be decided... NearXMisa. LightXMisa. AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in FFNet on May 20, 2007.
> 
> This fanfiction story is of AU content and explores the aftermath of Kira's reign and hubris. The actual dates in the original Ohba story have been changed here to suit the themes and moods applied throughout these chapters. Beta proofreading is courtesy by SunMoonandSpoon.

_Where do we go? Nobody knows._

_I've gotta say I'm on my way down._

_God give me style and give me grace_

_God put a smile upon my face._

_-"God put a smile upon your face"-_

**1) Misconception of His Justice in her head**

 

* * *

**Valentine's Day, 2014**

_Shaft of light flashed in her wet eyes when she stepped on the cold cement below her. Her breathing heavy, the rhythm pulsed in her head, weighing twice the load. Her bare feet were sore from climbing up the multitude of stairs. Fifty-eight stories up the air and done with the dispute if she will proceed ending her life, she looked down at the small colorful lights blurred in this distance. The automobiles even seemed to shrink when she focused her eyes on them. Craving for forgiveness not met, Misa Amane realized that Hell is the only way to go. She needs to die. She thought about this as she stood there, perfectly calm, almost posed in a meditating stance. She had done nothing but rob riches gained from the blood in her hands. Her hands convey the countless criminals she murdered for a god she thought would offer her redemption. This is sweet repose, the final stage of everything, the point of no return, the dead end between the devil and the deep blue sea. It almost felt like ice picks were puncturing her through the collarbone and down through her torso. This must be how she pays the damages for enlisting people to follow and honor her blasphemous ways._

_The more she thought about it, the clearer it became. She's done something horrible for so many years and never even saw that it was a mistake. Perhaps it isn't or perhaps she wants to believe it isn't because it's embarrassing to admit she was wrong all this time. Misa Amane wiped her hands on her garment which was already drenched in her blood. Her palms feel cold and small against the turbulent whooshing of the wind around her. Her wrists were still sore and bleeding and as she stared down at them, she could see the pattern of handcuffs that wounded the skin. She hissed as she tried peeling off some portions of the skin turning purple because of bruising. When she couldn't peel that much skin, she began weeping again; it seems like nothing she could do would reverse the situation._

_Evil witch, you deserve to burn alive in a stake._

_She starts to sing a song to accompany her to this demise._

_Then she heard a voice. She glanced behind her and spotted the silver locks of hair that curled on his head; the piercing, hollow eyes; the lips that never once smiled._

_She welcomes him. "Hello, Near."_

_He crept closer; nineteen years old and tall, wearing a long white trench coat. He reached out a gloved hand at her._

_"Misa, be with me." His voice sounded almost as sincere as his plea is as convincing. "Walk here and be alone no more..."_

* * *

 

 

**Tuesday, first day of winter season**

**Year 2014**

"Good morning, Mr. River." Chief of Police Ian Rosenberg greeted the famous, young detective who was squatting on the floor.

Near fingered a white puzzle piece before placing it neatly on the right portion of the board. For a moment, Rosenberg stood there and remembered his young boss as the genius orphan who succeeded an immortal figure known by a single letter and that letter appeared as Near was finishing the puzzle. When he was done, he examined it fondly even though he had that puzzle in possession since he was eight. Rosenberg afforded a smile, realizing that he was no longer a boy; however he still appears to be shy of social contact. To Rosenberg, he stayed as a child; _the_ child who solved the chilling case of serial mass murders that caused fatal national terrorism. Yes, _that_ case; the one locked safely in the records of any country that encountered its venom ten years ago. It was the legendary _Kira_ who murdered criminals all across the globe, using a paranormal notebook, the _Death Note_. During the process of solving that case, Near's mentor, friends and associates died. But with a final, crushing move, he claimed victory. The media never got to officially release the truth as to how Kira kills his victims. Ten years went and Rosenberg trembled in disbelief that it would be coming back to haunt them again.

"Near?"

"Complete attendance as usual around the bureau." Near replied unsympathetically, the timbre in his voice a quiet alto. "If we keep this up, the rate of crimes around in Europe will decrease."

"We kept peace for a very long time, yes." Rosenberg took a seat in the armchair adjacent to the youth.

Near held up the puzzle board, admiring the perfection of his work. "Ian?"

"Yes, Near?"

"Winter is Mello's favorite season, did you know?"

"I know now." Rosenberg smiled. Mello was Near's 'best friend,' if the term applied is even possible. Mello saw Near as an enemy because he wanted to be the one to succeed their late mentor but Near fondly thought of him as his 'dear' Mello which pissed off the other boy to no end.

"I would like you to heat him a fresh chocolate drink tonight when the snow gets colder." Near answered as he placed the puzzle board on a glass table located on his left. He didn't take his eyes off of it.

"Yes, I would do that, Near." Rosenberg sighed, eyebrows furrowed. Mello died trying to reveal Kira's identity through that suicidal plan he conceived. Whatever Near is asking for right now, it's just one of his unemotional rituals. Near is never interested in becoming a part of the human race. A locked door isn't always easy to open when you don't have the right key. Lord knows Rosenberg attempted several times but failed. Still, this forty-seven year old Chief of Security treated him like a son.

"Thank you, Ian." Near looked at him with those empty eyes. He would look at a person the same way he would look at a toy clutched in his hand.

Rosenberg tossed his thoughts back and forth, treading his steps before he tells the youth about this new case. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. His eyes fell on the letter " **L** " in the lower portion of the Near's finished puzzle.

"L was a good man." Rosenberg remarked silently.

"He was a great man, Ian." The sentiment is flat, that much is certain, because even though Near succeeded the great man, he saw him only as a pedestal that he had already conquered.

"Yes." Rosenberg looked back at Near who idly kept their gazes steady for a long time. The young man waited for him to say something more.

"I will be direct with you, Near." Rosenberg whispered softly, his jaw clenched into a scowl. "There is a certain baffling event in Japan: a society who calls themselves followers of _Kira_ _Justice_."

When Rosenberg enunciated out the word " _Kira_ ," he winced bitterly. Then it was followed by the word, " _Justice_." What enlightened human being of this year would consider the brutal, unforgiving crimes of this organized serial killer prophetic and honorable? It just doesn't make sense. Could it be that there were surviving supporters of Kira after all this time? They did all the necessary procedures to eliminate the aftermath chaos. All of the government agencies in the world reversed every civilian's belief, pressing on the truth that Kira was a merely a man who took law in his own hands and passed judgments on criminals. That never made him a hero; it only smeared him as the worst deranged and narcissistic sociopath that ever lived. Rosenberg could never understand for the life of him why a group of people would still worship this pathetic criminal.

"His name was Light Yagami." Near broke through his lines of thoughts.

"He was only a college student." Rosenberg continued. "A very promising one too. He was also a well-bred citizen of his country. His father works for the law. At one point of his life, this good kid picked up a notebook and started a killing spree. Why?"

Near said nothing. He did not value justifications to be of importance because that would require him to extend care which he was incapable of next to experiencing joy.

"Do you want to see if there is any truth to this cult?" Rosenberg asked. "Do you want to form theories, Near? Near?"

Near peered outside the window and watched the snow as Rosenberg kept speaking.

"We shouldn't alert the media about any more information. This cult is an abomination against law and if we don't put the brakes on them, they may become extensive."

"Misa Amane."

Rosenberg knew he heard that name before. He searched his memory banks and retrieved the content. He nodded and said. "She was the famous celebrity back in the year 2004. She was allegedly connected to the Kira murders."

"She was acquitted as his accomplice, the Second Kira, because the testimony would not hold in court." Near stood up slowly, keeping his back turned from Rosenberg the whole time.

"Do we have any idea where she is currently residing?"

Near tapped the window as if he was trying to poke a snowflake falling outside. "She vanished without a trace."

Rosenberg felt his toes were cold. "What do you mean?"

"I've been looking for her and I think I know now for certain that she is alive and well." Near kept tapping the window in a measured, contemplative tempo.

"Do you think it's her? Is Misa Amane the one leading the cult?" Rosenberg took his cell phone from his pocket and snapped it open, speed dialing. "We must find her. She's most definitely somewhere in Japan."

"Without a doubt," Near strolled towards the Chief. "But still—"

He rested a gentle hand on Rosenberg's cell phone as he was about to place it on his ear. The older man simply nodded, his trust for the boy's decisions intact, and placed it back in his pocket.

Near walked to his desk and stared at the puzzle board on top of the glass table across it. "Do you want to know why Misa Amane got caught up in all of this?"

"Well, according to official records, she was a victim of 'miscarried justice'. The fiend who murdered her family got away. There was a rumor that the jury facilitated the case with bias. When the news of Kira spread around the Kanto streets of Japan, she believed it was him that executed the criminal since Kira's signature is a cardiac arrest and almost fifty criminals in Kanto alone died under this suspicious circumstance. So it's not surprising that the Amane family's murderer belonged to it. Just like previous followers years later who saw Kira as some kind of deity, so did she. She felt she owe him gratitude and service. It might or might not be a coincidence that she herself discovered a Death Note."

Near waited patiently for the older man to finish and then he picked up the puzzle board from the corner and threw it on the floor. He did this without anything in his expression. Rosenberg sat there, waiting for something else to be done. Then the albino sleuth bent down and flipped over the puzzle board, sweeping it from the white pieces it was covered with. He handed it to Rosenberg who just stared at it because he doesn't understand what to expect. He simply kept blinking at the empty surface before him.

"I'm fraught." Near looked up and twirled a silver strand of hair. "The board is emptied once more. And the pieces are nowhere to be found."

Rosenberg nodded, seeing the analogy clearly. "We need to find those pieces so we could form the pattern again."

"Some of those pieces won't fit and perhaps they don't need to." Near approached the window and, taking one last look at the snow outside, he pulled down the blinds.

Rosenberg glanced at the pieces scattered on the floor and then he saw Near stepping on them languidly. He looked up and watched Near's face.

The youth added nonchalantly. "And some are not meant to be found."

He peered at Rosenberg.

"Take me to Japan," was the last phrase he uttered for the entire day until both of them climbed inside the private plane and traveled to the other side of the world.

* * *

 

 

**Valentine's day, 2014**

_Misa's eyes locked into his and for a while, their words were simply suspended in another universe, unspoken. His hand remained outstretched to her and she never took it. Tears hazed her vision. Allowing him to step closer towards her, his eyes never leaving hers, they stood there, unyielding. He was a man now, no longer the child she remembered. Misa, on the other hand, was an abandoned repentant with nowhere else to go._

_"He has left me," she spoke with a voice she hardly recognized. "I see no reason to live."_

_Near didn't answer her, his callous, probing eyes remained watchful._

_Misa was angry at him. All this blood saturated on her robes was partly his doing._

_"Misa," he spoke at last. "I was left alone too."_

" _That's nothing to compare to my own despair." Misa closed her eyes. "You don't care being left alone, Near. In fact, you rejoice for it."_

_Near's lips tightened into a straight line as if he was going to smile at that remark but restrained himself. "Misa, I don't recall 'rejoice' to be present in my currently selected emotions these days."_

_Misa ignored that sarcasm and turned away from him. When she did, she swayed, caught off-balance and stunned. Near grabbed her hand just in time. Misa gasped and then she realized she wasn't really ready for this at all. She gazed down at the lights, the cars and the people. She looked up at the skyscrapers and the dark clouds of the sky. She wept again and called his name. Near held her hand but he didn't force her to come down. She turned her body to face to him and lowered her right foot from the ledge. While his hand held hers, she raised her other hand to fondle his silver locks. And then she pulled them hard from his scalp._

_The youth didn't even feel a goddamn thing but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes now. Near breathed gently and Misa was so close that she determined that his warm breath smelled like autumn air. She inhaled and savored it, infuriated by the way his very human swept across her skin. So Near has a piece of him that's human. Misa wanted to claim that._

_She chuckled grimly when he still didn't move. Taking her hand off his hair, she responded. "You know what they will do to me. They will execute me."_

_Near didn't answer._

_"Why are you here?"_

_Misa placed back her right foot on the ledge and pried her hand off his. She waited for him to say something but the young man just watched her._

* * *

 

 

**Thursday Evening**

**Japan**

Ian Rosenberg turned on the television and called Near from his room. The younger man walked with disinterest towards Rosenberg who was standing with his arms folded as his eyes watched the news. Near turned his gaze on the television screen as well and tried to comprehend the terror this country is going through. The details are still admissible but Near was capable of seeking even the truths buried beneath the surface. He glanced swiftly at his companion, half-smirking.

"Is this why you're upset?" he asked.

The older man answered by pressing the volume on the remote control. Both of them understood perfect Japanese. The newswoman in the screen was saying, "Police are unable to appease the riot that's been going on for two days now. Citizens around Kanto are locking their homes from possible threats. Schools were suspended and all roads are closed to avoid anybody leaving or entering the district. Thousands of men are gathered from all across Japan, calling themselves as Kira's followers."

"As all of you may know, Kira was a convicted felon back in 2007 who organized a series of deaths in which all his victims were criminals. The Police stressed that everybody should not play vigilante at this critical time and to avoid aggravating higher authorities."

Rosenberg tried to exhale when his chest felt like it was constricting unbearably. He glanced at Near. "How do you want to deal with this?"

"It is not our job," Near replied.

"Then why are we here?"

"Misa Amane."

Near observed the live feedback from the location of the riot. People had gone berserk. They were assaulting policemen and burning places down. He paid close attention as an armed policeman was struck by three men and other police officers were forced to start shooting at them. This stirred more panic.

The newswoman and her crew were looking for a safer place to report. He could hear her talking to the microphone loud and clear. "There is nothing that could stop these maniacs from attacking the city. They're all mad!"

A loud explosion echoed followed by screaming and crying. Rosenberg flinched visibly and hurriedly took his coat and gun from the corner. Near just stood there, watching. The newswoman continued to wail. "They're all mad!"

Near smirked wider. _Well, aren't we all?_

"Stay put, Ian."

"I need to alert the bureau about this." Rosenberg was dialing on his cell.

Near looked back at him with a sudden commanding air. "That's an order."

Rosenberg's lips closed firmly as he tried to read Near's facial reaction. There was nothing there. He sighed and turned off his cell phone. "What do you want to do now, Near? You're not safe here."

Before Near could say something back, their attention was diverted when they heard the newswoman saying, "There is a woman being ushered by armed men to the center of the street. She is wearing-focus the camera closer, Subaru-she is wearing long white robes and she's leading the group. We could not get any closer but this is the best image we have of her."

Rosenberg took the folder he brought with him and skimmed his eyes on the contents. Then he looked back at the screen. When he was convinced enough, he raised the photo against the television screen and showed it to Near. "It's her."

Near nodded. He twisted a strand of silver hair around his index finger. It was a habit he never overcame ever since he was a child. He always does that out of reflex especially when he is deeply perplexed with something.

Rosenberg was becoming impatient. "What do you want to do now, Near? We clearly proved that she is the one in control here."

"Not for long."

"What makes you so confident that you could arrest her without her resisting you?" Rosenberg believes in Near's abilities as a detective and law officer but sometimes the young man is too relaxed and even gruesomely unfeeling. There are many incidents during cases when Near never expressed agitation even if the moment calls for it...unless of course he is reaching a breaking point. The last time that happened was seven years ago but it might happen again this time.

"Tell me what you are thinking, Near." Rosenberg pleaded. He had been working for him for so many years but Near hardly find that a basis of complete trust.

"You can do what you want, Ian." Near finally responded. "But if you don't mind, I would like to find her myself."

"I see," Rosenberg expected this. He also knew that when Near really needs help, he would just ask for it point-blank. If he wishes to do this alone then he must have a pretty good reason.

"I don't understand why," he said silently as he picked up a few things before he headed to the door.

"It is not that complicated." Near bowed his head, observing his toes exposed on the rug beneath them. Near wouldn't look at him.

"Then good luck with that, Near."

He finally opened his eyes to look at the older man.

Rosenberg smiled. "By the way, I brought Mello his hot chocolate as you wished."

"Thank you for telling me," Near smiled back blankly.

"Take care now," he said to the young man as he opened the door.

"You be careful out there," Near glanced back at the television screen.

As Rosenberg was about to leave, he looked back at the youth, "What makes you think you could get through her?"

Near bowed his head again. "I fancy that she still doesn't know where she's going and through that I could find her."

* * *

 

 

**Valentines' Day**

_Tears did not stain her cheeks anymore. Misa really wants to know why he pursued her only after so many years. They have met before, yes; when all was done, when her beloved had died. They had seen each other one last time when he buried his dear friends, that blond boy Mello and the other one with the goggles whose name Misa could not remember. She knew that the event seven years ago never called for change between them. She was still the girl searching for a divine purpose. He was still the successor trying to succeed his mentor. Lines might have been crossed but not here where they stand. They are enemies but just tonight, all of it felt otherwise._

_"Misa," he called her. He kept his distance._

_"I think I would fine by my own now," she smiled at him and turned her back away, fully prepared to take the plunge._

_Near was just standing there._

_Misa closed her eyes and laughed at that. "You and I both know that I am already dead."_

* * *

 

 

**Friday Morning**

**Japan**

Near finished the same puzzle again, the one with colorless pieces which are so glossy that, when the picture is finished, they shimmers in the light. The letter " **L** " was solid and Near started tracing it with his pinky finger. He held a cup of coffee in one hand, sipping as he contemplated. Once in a while he tried to sleep but it was futile. He was awake for seven years and it was a long time ago. Seven years gave him enough time to sort out angles. He dealt with real pain one time in his life before what happened seven years ago. He knew that pain is always temporary. When L and Mello died, Near didn't feel awful. Nonetheless, a part of did _feel_ and he wasn't sure what to think about that.

He saw how Ian always looked at him. That colleague of his perplexed him. Nothing keeps Near company more than his toys especially this particular puzzle. It remained there in his touch, glistening as the sun surfaces on it. He sipped his coffee and couldn't suppress the yawn.

Then he looked out the window and wondered when winter is visiting Japan. He also wondered if Mello likes winter with Japanese chocolate. Near pondered about it and it is the thought that stayed the longest in his mind.

* * *

 

 

**Valentines' Day**

_"Do you believe in God, Near?"_

_With his eyes, Near traced her figure, her straight back exposed in front of him._

_"Do you believe He will take care of you when you die?" Misa asked him again in a voice soothing as a forgotten lullaby. "Do you think He takes good care of the ones you love right now?"_

_Near smirked._

_"You see," she added. "I don't. At least not anymore."_

_Near took a step closer. "Look at me."_

_Misa ignored him._

_"It's over, Near." She fluttered her eyelids open. "It's gone."_

_"You're wrong." He answered._

_Misa raised her arms from her sides, outstretched, ready to be crucified._

_"There's beauty in ruin and decay."_

_Misa snapped her eyes at him from behind, astonished. When their eyes intertwined momentarily, she understood him for the first time._

 


	2. Chapter 2

_What if there was no lie, nothing wrong, nothing right?_

_What if there was no time and no reason or rhyme?_

_What if I got it wrong?_

_And no poet or song could put right what I got wrong_

_Or make you feel like I belong?_

_Every step that you take could be your biggest mistake_

_It could bend or it could break; that's the risk that you take._

_-"What if"-_

**2) Honor thy mother and father**

 

* * *

 

 

**November 2004**

Reflections in the mirror are devastating and tonight, before she went to bed, she chose to be ravished by them. She smiled like the way she smiles for the cameras everyday. And there was nobody there; no patronizing photographer, magazine editor or teenage fans. Only her reflection greeted her: golden blonde hair and deep-set brown eyes. And then the smile slowly disappears and she could not tear away herself from the mirror. So she allows the sinking feeling to drag her further below the surface. The feeling stayed for hours. After stroking the strands of her hair, she withdraws from the tasteless sight of her reflection. She collapsed right on the bed.

When her phone rang, the answering machine picked up on cue.

"Misa, it's Kuwabara." Her manager's voice flooded her room. "Don't forget your photo shoot tomorrow. We'll start early. I'm gonna pick you up at four so be ready by then. We prepared breakfast for you in the studio. Good night, Misa, sleep well."

 _Click_. Misa shut her eyes and another message resonated in the air.

"Misa, it's your aunt, are you there, honey?"

Misa wondered how to answer back.

"I know you're busy but if you have the time, give me a call. Thank you for the orchids, dear. They're lovely. Good night, Misa."

 _Click_. Misa stretched her hands up and tried to get some sleep. She moved to her right, emptying her thoughts. She didn't bother turning off the lampshade beside her. After all that has happened to her in two years, she never slept in complete darkness anymore. She needed light. Light makes her feel secure.

 _There is nobody there in your mirror._ Misa kept telling herself. She must remain beautiful for tomorrow. She must be perfect. If that falls apart, what else does she have?

The next day was nothing exciting. Modeling is boring. Misa has to stand and smile for the camera. There really isn't anything to it. When she took a break, she sat down on the seat with her name on it. She sipped her latte and daydreamed. She didn't want to look at people. She's been in these places before and it only reminded her that her existence is nothing but a joke. She yawned and threw her empty latte cup on the trashcan beside her. It wasn't there at all. She specifically asked that garbage cans should be within her reach. Pissed off right now, she wished to fire anybody. She stood up to look for the trashcan. After doing that, she picked a doughnut from the corner. She noticed a newspaper beside the food so she glanced at it swiftly, wondering if anything at all happened to the world outside hers. Models do not read and learn. They're not educated. They're made to make people feel bad about their irregularly-shaped bodies. Misa took a large bite in her doughnut when she thought of that.

As her eyes skimmed through, a name stood out from all the scattered, meaningless jargon of words in the paper. It made her blood freeze. She put aside her unfinished doughnut somewhere and raised the newspaper up, knocking down some paper cups in the process. She read the whole paragraph and couldn't believe that it finally happened: God answered her prayers! The man who terrorized and destroyed her was dead. She could just laugh and dance around the studio. The happiness was intoxicating. Misa read it over and over, reciting it in her head.

_"It is believed that the suspect died of heart attack, a signature of the famous Kira whose name is on the World Wide Web. He is considered as a crusader of justice who defends the weak and the suffering. Many cases of criminals dying under strange circumstances were reported to be done by no other than this Kira entity."_

"Misa! It's time for the next spread!"

She eagerly answered back a loud "Hai!" and skipped as she walked in front of the photographer who noticed the change in her gait.

"Happy today, Misa-Misa?" he looked into the lens of the camera and focused it on the girl. The blonde beauty posed elegantly.

"Hai!" she said happily. When the camera took that shot and the picture was developed, the magazine editor picked it as the front cover. When asked why, she simply said, "It's rare to find Misa smile like that. It's as if the world became brighter for her at last."

 

* * *

 

 

**June 2002**

**Amane Family vs. Toshido Masato**

_"What time did you arrive home?"_

_The horror-stricken young girl took a deep breath before she answered her lawyer's questions. Several faces peered at her; some were remorseful while others are just watching her torment indifferently. The judge gave her a comforting glance. Misa put her hands on top of her lap to prevent her fingers from shaking since they already felt brittle. "It was six in the evening. I came home from school."_

_"What did you find when you got home?"_

_"My parents and my brother."_

_"Tell the court exactly how you found them."_

_Misa tried not to cry and she also didn't look at anybody but her hands that were shaking uncontrollably. "My mother was lying on the floor close to the door and she was the...first one I saw. Then I walked to the stairs and I found my brother there and he was—bleeding like my mother. I was...scared. I went looking for my father and he was—he was under the window in the living room...I think he tried to stop—tried to stop whoever..."_

_She couldn't take it anymore. She started to sob quietly. There were murmurs that ensued as they all waited for her to go on. She took another deep breath and said. "So I think my father was still alive and tried to stop whoever did it. I called for help. I rushed outside and started screaming. When they brought him back to the hospital—he didn't...he didn't make—HE DIED! THEY ALL DIED!"_

_She wailed out the last phrase. The murmurs were louder now that she could form coherent sentences from them. The judge ordered the court to be silent._

_The lawyer nodded gravely. "Did you see the face of the attacker?"  
_

_"Yes," Misa was more dignified now._

_"Is he present in this court?"_

_"Yes!"_

_The lawyer motioned the court behind him. "Could you point us the man who massacred your family?"_

_Misa pointed at the man sitting on her right side, the defendant, Toshido Masato._

_The judge silenced the court when they started to speak to themselves louder now. The whole prosecution lasted for about two hours. However Misa was the only witness and there was not enough evidence in court to hold the case. In addition to that, there were many other important cases waiting so hers was dismissed completely since they were only a middle-class family. When the sentence was finally read, "On the case regarding the Amane family versus Toshido Masato, we found the defendant..."_

_Her aunt and uncle were on Misa's side, holding her, asking her to be brave because theirs were not enough to keep her on ground._

_"Not guilty."_

_Those words ripped apart the tiny hope she has left._

**Year 2007**

**The End of Kira's Reign**

She found Light and she served Kira, the mass murderer the police have been aiming to catch. But to her, he is a God. She wasn't just talking about light as in an illumination but a man named Light Yagami, the one who is Kira, her only love and life. When the Shinigami Rem had given her a Death Note, she bound her whole integrity to Light and his ideals for a better world. She fulfilled every whim and fancy of the man she swore to love forever. She even offered her own life if he found her no longer of use and how he had used her, exploited her to his ways of cleansing the bastards of the world. She has obeyed him and adored him. She wished he would see her the way she does and wanted him to love her like no other. But the man she loved is a dead corpse with a heart that no longer beats. It didn't matter to her anymore. There is no love in their partnership, there is no love everytime he kisses her; there is no love in his promises.

There is only _Light._

"Misa, I want you to pretend to be Kira right now," he told her once as his gentle brown eyes pierced through hers. "I want you to be with me in the new world once I am done. You will be my queen, Misa."

She believed him. She fell for his poisonous words again. "Yes, Light!"

Misa sounded like a saint professing to her Lord. "Yes, Light! Take me with you!"

_I tried to look but this vagueness I can't seem to understand_

_I tried to reach out more but you tend to close your door_

_You don't know_

_You don't feel_

_You ignore_

_But for real, I'm just here_

_You don't know how much you mean to me_

Light had been cruel to her in so many ways but she knew he did love her in a twisted way, in the only way he could. She was contented with that. Whenever they make love, Light would look at her and he would see how she would give her life for him. Misa knew he appreciated that. When she thought more about it, she knew it was not like that. Light simply saw her as an object. The ugly thing about the truth in that fact is that Misa knew and she wanted it to stay that way. He was the only one who touched her like this. He was the only one who showed her she is of worth. How could she betray this man, this man who became the center of the universe to her? How could she walk away from him no matter how he casts her aside and only uses her when he needs bait to lure his enemies?

Nothing in the world makes any sense until he came and made it impossible to disentangle. Yes, this is love. This is love and she wants it. When he was finished making love to her, he falls straight into slumber and Misa would watch the glow in his handsome features, allowing it to engulf her.

_In you I see the_ _**LIGHT** _

_Because of you it feels so right_

_And for you I would fly_

_It's true, it's true_

_You brought colors to my sight_

_And showed wonders in my life_

_**LOVING YOU I WANT TO TRY** _

"I have to go now, Misa." Light said to her firmly. "You stay here and don't follow me."

She wished she did. That day she lost again everything. She couldn't believe she was defeated again. She said "no more" and yet it was all gone just like that. She will never forgive herself for losing him. It was the biggest crime she ever committed. She doesn't care if they all called him a murderer, a serial killer or a fraud justice crusader. They didn't know him. They didn't see the purest intentions of his noble goal. No one could understand it better than a girl who was robbed away of hope and closure. Nobody else. Light had given her life. He had freed her from the scars of her flesh.

_You don't know_

_You don't feel_

_You ignore that I'm real_

_I'm just here_

_You don't know how much you mean to me_

To the rest of the world, upon the hour that struck when Light Yagami died as Kira, he was a cold-blooded murderer who got away because of a supernatural notebook.

To Misa Amane, he is a God and as she went to the corners of the world, she began to search for those who believed in it too.

**Saturday Morning**

**Japan**

Near knew exactly the right place he'll be coming back to. He walked the rough pathway before his feet finally rested on the Bermuda grass. It was raining that day and the wet atmosphere hasn't really affected his mood. He passed cobblestones along his way until he reached the right one. As he stood there on the gravesite, he remembered people asking why he wanted him to be kept buried in this country. They insisted that a man of his reputation should be buried home among his people. Near dismissed it with a silent reply, "His people are around the world so it would be hard to have him buried around the world, wouldn't it? Shall we burn him and scatter his ashes on the surface of the earth? I don't think so. This is the land where he died. His blood was shed here so his body has the right to rot and decay in this piece of land." They remained unconvinced so he added more firmly now. "He died for the cause of sending Kira to death penalty and it cost his life. No man is braver than the man who lies in this soil and he likes to be kept here so he will remember the event that took his life but not his dreams away."

And then Near would smile. "I know L. He is humble when he lived and he liked to be humbled even in death."

He held the umbrella close to him, eyes cast upon the damp soil where his mentor was resting in peace. He didn't bother greeting him. It's not like he could hear him. He's not very poignant but Near did talk to him. He asked L for his help and he said it. "I want to find Misa Amane."

There was no name written on the stone, just the date. Near kept it that way. He wanted the memory to be only his alone.

Near waited for the rain to stop. When it did, he started walking to the streets, the umbrella still above his head. People who walked passed him wondered why he still has it now that the sun is shining once more. Near crossed a pedestal before reaching the right place. He looked around the houses in every corner, momentarily debating on which house was the one he is looking for. Near sighed and turned to his left. When he finally saw the one house that stood out from the others, he knew he found it. It was already ruined compared to the stylish houses beside it. It looked like something from a book of haunted places. Near had a good idea when this house was built. He estimated it to be about ten years ago. He also guessed that the owners of this house didn't want to have it reconstructed. They wanted the house the way it was even in this century and space. Near wondered why people couldn't let go but he really didn't have the right to judge them.

He knocked on the door. It was wide open. He stepped inside and started to picture what she had seen in the front porch. She saw her mother lying in her pool of blood. He walked some more and reached the stairs. That's where her younger brother was found, stabbed in the same fashion. He turned to his right and saw her sitting beside the window. At first she didn't acknowledge his presence but she was aware that he will be coming back.

Near looked up at the ceiling and said. "You could at least have the roof fixed."

"If you want to arrest me, do it."

He shook his head and put down the umbrella in the corner. "Have you seen the streets that your group destroyed? Many buildings were burned down. Don't you think they will come looking for you after you appeared on TV?"

"We both know they have no idea that it was me." She did not face him.

"How could you be sure I won't make a big deal about this?" he took a step forward.

"It seems that you already had since you are here." Misa finally looked back at him. She was older now. There is still the certain beauty and it hit him hard on the face. He didn't find himself immune to her charms but he didn't let it get to him either. He stayed where he was.

"I came here to make a compromise." Near said.

"I don't negotiate with enemies." Misa seemed calmer and stronger. She had convicted herself to a killer and she would remain steadfast to that. Near sighed.

"It has been years, Misa." Near spoke clearly. "We are both tired. We knew that this is pointless. Resurrecting Kira's ideals from the dead would never happen."

Misa didn't say anything. Near went on. "You know that the stunt you pulled off three days ago was hardly posing threat globally. The cult you are leading, you know it won't hold on for long. Why don't you let it go, Misa?"

"I know what I am doing." She closed her eyes. "If you did not come here to arrest me then please go."

"Misa, this is a loser's game."

"I don't want to win," Misa said with conviction now. "I just want to refresh his memory. He is not a murderer, Near."

"He is not a god too."

"To me, he is!" she stood up and looked hard on him. "You may not understand what he was fighting for. You may not get it but that's only because you have a narrow-minded perspective on things. This is not something that logic could be easily used on. It is deeper than that."

"Misa," Near risked another step. "I know you think Kira—no—Light Yagami was a good man. He was. But he has chosen violence. He has crossed the line."

"And you think your L was far greater man than he was!" Misa spitted out the words. "You think just because you're all for the conventional justice that you are the good guys!"

"Conventional justice?" Near raised an eyebrow.

"Law and justice, Near, that's the old way!" she said. "To me and Kira, they don't go well. Justice is about taking matters in your hands."

"Justice is taking sides, Misa." Near said sadly. "You took the wrong side."

"Go away, Near." Misa turned away from him. "If there is nothing else then go."

Near stood quietly for a minute. Misa didn't tell him to leave twice. They just stood there in a very infinite silence. Then Near spoke again. "Seven years ago, I met you in the same cemetery they buried L. Did you visit Light's grave?"

"Don't mock me!" she was shaking and he knew she was crying. "You didn't respect Light's corpse. You set it on fire and kept his ashes displayed in your bureau as keepsake. You wouldn't even let Sachiko have it. You are the bad guys here, Near!"

"I know you got this the wrong way and there is nothing that could convince you otherwise." Near replied. "So you visited somebody else's grave that day. Is it your family?"

Misa slowly nodded. Near managed another step. He was now ten yards away from her. He kept his voice steady. "What happened to you was tragic but I want to help you, Misa."

"Why?"

"I wanted to because I saw many lives that the Death Note had ruined," Near said honestly. "It ruined my life too. I could barely go on a day without thinking of the people that I lost in that game years ago. I have lived but my friends, they are gone."

"It's not only that, Near." Misa didn't want to explain. He is an enemy and he will always be. She doesn't need him. "Just wait and see, Near. Kira would conquer the whole world again. I would continue-"

"You don't have the Death Note anymore, Misa." Near cut her off. "You know that this situation is temporary. If you don't surrender now, a higher agency will take this off my hands and take you."

"I thought this was a personal visit," Misa chuckled dryly and faced him once more.

"It is." Near replied.

"Go away, Near."

"I know how you feel," Near tried not to sound melodramatic. He was purely stating the fact. He was just negotiating. But something inside him is starting to burst in the surface. He wants her to know he could relate but there is no other way but to open up that part of him he kept buried.

"When I was younger," he began to speak louder now. "I had a family. I don't remember anything else but my mother."

"And you are telling me they died too and that it scarred you?" Misa responded sardonically. "Do you honestly think I would even care?"

Near tried again. "I don't really know what she looks like. When I try to remember her, I only hear screams. I hear them and I get sad because I don't understand what is happening. She was just screaming. When I got a little older, I tried to remember exactly how I arrived in the Wammy House. I know that somebody had hurt her and that I was present when it happened so I tried remembering it."

Misa was listening. Nothing registered on her face. Near walked closer to her, keeping their eyes locked on each other.

"I started to remember details now," he said. "I know what happened that day. It was vague but I have formed the image of her in the bed with men beating and hurting her. And she was screaming for them to stop and they wouldn't listen. I tried to review that image over and over until it got clearer and it always does every year I got older and mature."

"Why?" Misa suddenly answered him. "Why did you want to remember?"

"I want to know the truth," Near replied. "So I tried remembering some more. I tried remembering where I was. Sometimes it helps when I dream about it. When I recall the memory now, I can tell you exactly what occurred."

"What happened then?" Misa remained impassive but she listened.

"I was tied to a chair, facing her. They already killed my father. He was on the floor but I could not see him. I know he was there. And all I did was cry and stare as they were raping my mother. When it was done, they shot her. They should have shot me but decided to leave me there. I don't recall if there is anybody else in the house but when I think about it, I see it as a reason why I stopped crying since then."

"When I was taken to the orphanage, I haven't spoken in days. I have refused to play the other kids. I think I was successful in attempting to delete the memory of what happened. Then when I decided to refresh it, it took me a long time but the memory stayed here." Near pointed at his head.

Misa said nothing. She averted his gaze.

"Don't you see, Misa?" Near was close to her now. She still couldn't bring herself to look at him. "I remember nothing else but that day. You remember the other days before the night your family was murdered. You have pictures to know that they exist in your lives. I only remember her that day and only that day. I couldn't remember anything else but the screams."

He took her on the arm and jerked her up so she could look at him. Their eyes met at last and tears were on hers and he wondered if she was crying about him. "We all feel pain. We all deal with it. We don't go blaming the world for it. We just don't, Misa. So what the hell are you doing?"

"You don't understand," Misa's voice was a whisper.

"I don't but I know how it is." Near let go of her. "I also know that I did not let it consume me. You are far luckier to have good memories so why don't you dwell on that? You are selfish, Misa."

He walked away from her and reached the door then he looked at her from there. "I don't even remember if my mother loved me or if I loved her. All I remember is that there is going to be a hole I will never fill. I am just a victim of a crime and it robbed away any possibility for me to live a normal life."

He pointed at himself. "This is where I stand now." Then he pointed at the space between them. "This is the line."

His eyes did not wander away from her. "Where do you stand?"

"Go away, Near." Misa did not wipe her tears but she managed to collect herself. "I am not going with you."

Near nodded at that and left with the door open because they both know that he will come back for her again.


	3. Chapter 3

_So don't wish upon a star_

_Cause a star can only get you so far_

_And it doesn't matter who you are_

_Cause the sky looks better from the ground anyway_

_You never know what you got_

_And even when you do it don't mean it's gonna stay_

_Tomorrow is another day_

_You only live once and I'm living for today._

_-"Fast lane"-_

**3) Fifth Commandment**

 

* * *

 

 

It was a sharp dagger in the throat, a dagger that slashed first from the forehead and slowly made its way down the eye sockets, ripping them out. Then it traced the layers of skin in the cheeks, tearing the flesh apart. When it seemed like it was all done, the dagger suddenly speeds down to the throat, taunting first by burying gently the tip where the larynx is placed. By just a matter of seconds, the blade slits the throat, shredding the amount of life in a short span of time. In real life, it was a slow process. The slashing done is not as easy as it sounds. It takes sometimes years even until the blood comes out. When it does pour out there is no tourniquet tight enough to obstruct the bleeding. It cuts hard and deep. The dagger seeks to destroy. Victimized people encountered a series of knife wounds throughout life. They were small, irregular punctures at first that gradually became long traces of rips that scarred the being.

It is the slow process before death, before being freed from the corporal body. The process in which all possible explanations to why we have to hurt and feel will be answered. Life is disposable. You can smother it with your bare hands, you can drown it and you can stab and shoot it in the head. You can even burn and crush it into pieces. There are no limits on how to kill. It was a ritualistic and violating act. It is sacred and repugnant. It is a choice and a burden. In this world you are either the predator or the prey but sometimes you could fall in both categories. Nevertheless no one is compelled to choose just one. There really are no limits. People could do anything and get away with it. Nobody minds. Love is dead. There is only a sinking feeling within us that feeds on our lust and greed for survival. Sooner the venom spreads into the depths of our system. And then we die. If we do not die, we would go on in this private hell of ours now and forever.

To Misa Amane, she had just begun her life as Lady Justice. While she stood naked in front of the closed window of her old house, she thought about her younger years filled with questions. Now that she had grown she understood what must be done. She removed her clothes. After years that passed, she was the same teenage girl. She could still fit into the gothic fashionable dresses she adored. When she was putting on the elegant white robe, she took her time. Then she combed her hair and when she was sure each strand is in perfect place, she proceeded lighting a candle. Then she raised the sleeve from her left arm. She observed the burn marks imprinted in her fair-skinned wrist for a while and then she placed the candle just above them. When the hot wax hit the surface of her skin, she moaned in pleasure.

She gleefully watched as the wax covered the burn marks, hardening it, preparing it for another lascivious sting. She kept this up until her wrist is covered with the white wax. When the candle's wick is nearing, she didn't suppress another satisfied moan when she accomplished the self-injury. Then she started removing the harden wax in her skin, smiling when she sees the bright red marks in her flesh. The burns were almost orgasmic for her. She did not understand why it badly turns her on. It has that stimulating effect on her. It was just like kinky sex.

Misa pulled down her sleeve and took a long handkerchief with her. She wrapped it around her other wrist. Then she put on her make-up. It took her almost two hours until she was fully prepared. Then she heard the silence calling her again. She looked around her room and then she unlocked the door. She reached down the stairs and then she opened the next door. When she entered the place she was welcomed by people whom she preached to for almost a year now. They were wearing the same long white robe. Three of them approached her as she sat down on the high chair in the middle. The first one removed the handkerchief tied around her wrist. Then he placed it to cover her eyes. The other one was washing her feet with clean water and soap. The last one handed her the scales. She took it, firmly grasping the cold, rusty metal with her steady fingers. When they were done, they helped her walked outside. Others followed pensively; all were holding their own lighted candle. The three servants held Misa by the shoulder, waist and hand, guiding her where she walks. Misa was breathing comfortably and assuredly despite the blindfold. She knew that the night is catching up to them and before the last hour strikes, they must attack.

 

* * *

 

 

**Bureau of Crimes, United States**

Ian Rosenberg flipped open the drawer of evidence regarding the Kira case. He didn't browse through the items for he knew exactly what he was looking for. Nothing was on his mind when he picked up the cassette tape. He read the label and then closed the drawer and walked briskly towards the old stereo player. He put the tape inside, pushed it back, pressed play and began to listen. There were slight crunching noises before the actual recorded conversation began. It was the testimony of their suspect Teru Mikami before his execution. Rosenberg remained standing up as he heard Near's voice surfaced. He was only so young back then.

"Teru Mikami, you are proven guilty of being the X-Kira, an associate serial killer to Kira."

There was silence and then Teru Mikami spoke at last. His voice had an odd cadence to it as if he was in complete out-of-body experience when he spoke. "We are modern people. We do not have the wisdom of sin anymore. We are entitled to do what we want."

"How do you label your crimes then?"

"Crusades, detective Nate River."

The familiarization of his name did not alert Near. He didn't even acknowledge it for it is common knowledge how both the second Kira and also the X-Kira could kill their victims. His voice remained in his usual uninterested tone. "Then what does your crusade stand for if not to abolish evil men and their sins as Kira has explained before? If you can kill because today's civilization excuses that criminal act then what exactly are you fighting for?"

Teru Mikami still sounded so nonchalantly impassive just like Near. "I'm no criminal. I fight against injustice, against the loss of life."

"Very self-contradictory. I was asking what you are fighting for."

"I fight for freedom to eliminate evil. You will never understand. You are impure."

Near seemed to shuffle something, his favorite pack of cards maybe. Rosenberg could picture him now as he increased the volume of the sound and took a seat.

"I want to understand." Near was saying. "If you do not however agree with injustice and loss of life, do you not see that through your acts you are siding with it?"

"We have to sacrifice to attain the better good."

The shuffling stopped. Near's voice was louder now. "Better good? You have lost me in translation again."

"You will never understand."

"I want to understand."

"Kira is justice. Kira is life."

"I can see that." The words were heavy with cold sarcasm but that was a common trait from Near.

"You will never, ever understand." Teru Mikami sounded like he was feeling sorry for Near.

"Why did you choose to massacre a majority of these 'evil men' for the rest who are good but how can you be sure of the very context of sin? What gives you the right to weigh who sins more or sins less?"

Near was neither provoking nor criticizing. He was simply amused and wanted to know how his suspect thinks. He shuffled the cards again. Rosenberg could tell that Near might not be looking directly at Teru Mikami although his sharp attentiveness never fails.

"...never, ever understand." Teru Mikami was whispering now as though he was in some sort of his own world.

"Kira is hypocrisy." Near was challenging him now. "Kira is damnation."

"Do not fight His will. You are impure."

"Kira is a murderer."

A laugh escaped Teru Mikami's lips. "You're in the position to judge, to justify a certain level of your reasons why you fight the will of God."

Near was also engaging in this talk freely. He didn't mind the references to Light Yagami and his crimes of the "holy kind," so to speak. He remained unconcerned as he said to Teru Mikami, "That might be possible but you forget the fact that Kira is not God. He is a man of flesh. By definition, God is a divine, untouchable being."

"Do not talk about things too literally. You are so impure."

"And you're not?" Near yawned a little.

"We all are."

"Indeed, Teru." Near still sounded amused.

"But God chose me to deliver his wrath."

"Very biblical, I suppose."

"You will never understand." Teru Mikami must be shaking his head now.

"At least I am trying," Near said without any detection of that phrase in his voice. He seemed idle with talking to the suspect but knowing Near, Rosenberg knows this is also affecting him in some way.

"The existence of the Death Note opens more doors to the possibilities of the paranormal." Near replied casually. "I am still inclined to use the scientific approach even with that given idea."

"You and your science." Teru Mikami chuckled.

"Yes, Teru. You and your moral ideals too."

"Do not psychoanalyze me. Your cold indifference and casual sarcasm have no effect on me."

"I just really deal with things in this kind of manner," Near reasoned out. "Do forgive if my behavior bothers you."

"I have nothing to be guilty about." There was the distinct conviction on Teru Mikami's voice. "I hardly call what I say to you a confession. I am God's chosen one. I have to right to deliver and eliminate."

"Yes, I see. I do. I really do. Then to reach the sainthood you deserve, you have no qualms in receiving the capital punishment."

"His will be done."

"Amen," Near responded and stood up, his chair resounding in the recorder as he did. "All would be settled at three in the morning."

There was silence and then Near spoke again. "Get some sleep."

"God is just. He will not forsake me..." Teru Mikami spoke softly.

"Good night." Near said impassively. Then the recording ended.

 

* * *

 

 

**Valentine's Day, 2014**

" _If you were to choose between Mello and L, who would it be?"_

_Misa remained on the cemented ledge, sitting in the same crouching position of the late L. She rested one hand on the ledge to balance herself while Near held the other hand again. She didn't want to give the wrong notion that she was going to stop this so she held onto him feebly and still stayed there, waiting for courage to build up on her so she could jump._

_Near wanted to answer it, of course. He was not quite confident what the answer should be though. He really didn't think there was a need to choose between Mello and L and he never really conceived such a thought. But he wanted Misa to stay put. He wanted to make sure he kept her distracted and alive. He looked up at the skyscrapers around them, lost in depths. Then his lifeless eyes shifted back casually towards the older girl. "I choose neither."_

" _You should choose between them. Why can't you choose?"_

" _Because I'm not sure what rank or category I am going to evaluate them."_

" _Who do you like more?"_

_A flicker passed in Near's eyes and Misa caught a glimpse of it._

" _I'd humor you when I say I choose L."_

" _Oh?"_

" _I wanted to replace and succeed him. He has my respect although his death disappointed me a whole lot." Near slightly looked down at his hand closed around Misa's. Then he looked up again._

_Misa waited for a continuation. Near said nothing more. She stood up again but Near would not let go. She let him for she was too tired to push him away. So she stood there above him and he looked so small in this angle._

" _The only way I will choose Mello," Near suddenly spoke, "is if you ask me who I wanted to be revived back from the dead. If there is a way one of them would be alive, I want it to be Mello."_

" _Did you—" Misa was not sure how to put it._

_Near replied offhandedly, "L's place is mine now so I'd rather he be dead since it is his time to pass it on me."_

" _And Mello?" Misa felt something was crushing her chest. "Did you ever wish you could have done something to prevent his death?"_

" _He always, always wanted L to like him." Near spoke softer now. "Funny because L always liked him and Mello always thought L likes me. I don't care what L feels about me. He was only my mentor. Mello was my, he was..." he was out of the right words. He peered at Misa's face._

" _Did you love him?" Misa asked in a broken whisper._

" _Even if I did or never did, I guess there would always be a time in winter when the only thing I could offer to warm him is a cup of hot chocolate." Near withdrew his hand and took a step back, eyeing Misa. She looked back at him steadily._

" _It's okay, Near." She was saying, "You could cry now."_

" _No, Misa." Near just stood there, "You could."_

 

* * *

 

 

**Sunday Afternoon, Japan**

Near lay down on the floor, staring at the ceiling fan and the perfect circular corners that looked like flowers. He didn't blink or think about Misa or the cult that day. He was thinking about the Death Note. He was thinking about what he could have done when he was the one who found it somewhere abandoned on the ground. He was putting down dominos on the floor three hours earlier, making sure they were side by side with one another. He filled his whole rented room with them, rectangular pieces standing immobile on the surface of the floor, tables and chairs. All of the pieces were close together. Near positioned himself in the middle of his creation. The last piece was there by the end of his index finger on the right. He would just push the last piece to the next piece and they would all fall down in a perpetual manner or motion. He would listen to the sound of them hitting one another all around him. Right now he just lay there, waiting for some amount of solution to come to his head. He knew how he would console her.

He had been waiting for the opportunity. He knew that it was not the kind of risk advisable to take and yet he took it and he wanted her to see the truth for herself.

He wanted Misa to be tortured of the mistake she had made when she didn't choose to confess her crimes. Near wanted her to see that the man she dearly loved is a fake. It would take time now since she built her own little fan club but it hardly matters. Near would always win in the end. He counted the seconds before he closed his eyes and rested the tip of his finger on the piece as gently as he could. Then he pushed it to the next piece and they all followed the movement. They went clockwise around him, clicking as they fell down one by one in a calculated speed. Near remained in the middle, listening, imagining the very sound of a new war that has been breeding. An infectious parasite has devoured the shapes of his abstract mental focus. He still managed to think as clearly as he could for his next step.

He was now in the defensive mode. When you are dealing with criminals using paranormal powers and divine retribution to cover their crimes, you always have to be careful.

When the last domino piece fell, Near instantly sat up and smiled slyly. This time there is nothing left but the truth. He was going to make Misa eat it and see how well she could digest the truth he had been locking safely. Every drop of his blood screams for a new beginning in this modern world, a world his mentor believed in, a world his best friend competed to accomplish, a world he could be capable enough to offer to Misa Amane.

A world that is recovering from the scars of Kira.

 

* * *

 

 

**The Last Hour in the Calendar of Justice**

Misa had been sleeping the whole nightmare for almost seven years and had been nursing the wound of her sins for the same equal timeline. She was incredulously falling in sickness and death that weighed heavy in her slump shoulders. She had loved and had lost and when you look at the brighter side of that façade you would rather be dead. No, there was a reason why she did this. It was still that forcing belief in the world free from sin. The tides of corruption had swayed the nation and she was determined to instill Kira again among the people. She had already gathered at least a hundred of people now. They had destroyed several streets in Kanto but that was only the beginning of their plan.

She wanted them to see the truth about this plastic-covered peace they have. This was not the world she wanted to live in. It's not the industry of robots and other forms of technology that had somehow replaced human life with the artificial. Because of this, even the criminals had up scaled themselves into something more sinister. They also found a way to be part of the modernization. They kill and plunder using the gifts of this century's civilization. If Kira had won the battle seven years ago then this world had risen in a much better situation, something close to utopian paradise where everything was given free, where no man or child was hungry, where love and justice were just one hand away.

Misa Amane dreamed of a beautiful world and if she didn't strike fast it would melt into nothingness.

 _Try and stop me, Near,_ she thought grimly, _I am not the same girl._

Her followers had managed to break in the system checkpoints towards the state-of-the-art prison building. They moved fast like swarming bees ready for the kill. They plunged into each cell, murdering—no—executing judgments on these dirty souls that live. The criminals were bacteria and justice is a disinfectant. It was symbolic how it was done. They left all the cameras to capture the execution. They used knives and not guns and stabbed each criminal imprisoned. They rushed around, killing stealthily as they could, no fear or mercy in their eyes and hearts. Her followers knew that the new world will come with this ultimate sacrifice. Blood poured like rain that night, thick, red blood that tasted bitter and the torn flesh of the criminals they punished seemed almost edible.

Four men fought back and begged to be spared, claiming there were innocent of the crimes put unto them, wailing they have wives and children at home. Their throats were slashed without preamble from their executors. There was screaming and struggling but the prisoners were outnumbered and they died loudly. The five floors of the building were all explored, each criminal that was passed were stabbed while some were decapitated. The cameras captured everything in sight, the images that night forever immortalized.

Misa didn't participate in these activities. She remained standing there in the main entrance, holding the scales with her eyes blindfolded. She stood there for almost three hours motionless as the macabre spree went on inside. When the police cars arrived, when the policemen finally seized her followers, they didn't even try to touch her. Most of them thought she was a mirage. Most of them thought she was not even real. They do swore, however, that as some of them puked at the sight of hundreds of bodies found inside the building, that they thought that the day of reckoning has come and despite the comfort of the computers and the gadgets, evil is still stronger than any nuclear weapon.

When they saw Misa Amane with her clean white robe, blindfold and scales, unmoved by the terror around her, they actually believed that right at that moment, she was the Lady of Justice.

 

* * *

 

 

**The following day, Japan**

Near just watched as the cell phone furiously vibrated against the wood of his desk table. He knew it was a call from work. He didn't have to answer it because he saw the news. It was everywhere, reported via satellite or written around in the newspapers and as graffiti. When he glanced outside his apartment, he saw a group of thugs painting the walls with quotations from the book of revelations in the bible. There was even a caricature of the seven plagues in order. Near eyed each drawing with a small smile. It was creative, amusing and really fascinating. He slept with his clothes last night. He decided to take a bath first. He stood up in the cold water, not moving, allowing the drops of liquid to saturate his body. Then he dried himself and put on some fresh shirt and pants. He didn't brush his hair, preferring to curl it with his fingers instead. He went outside at last to take a closer look at the graffiti. The thugs ignored him and continued diligently with their art. Near's eyes didn't blink as he examined one particular scripture:

_Praise Him for He will someday resound around the throne of God because He willingly paid our debt of sin. The halls of eternal justice will ring the voice of millions of angels praising the one who judge the world because of the personal price He paid in the cross._

Near actually thought that a plaudit is in order for such a cute display. He walked to one of the artists and asked for a spray paint. The young man he talked to had multiple piercing in his body and looked stoned. Near thought that this was definitely not a Kira fan club, just a bunch of punks wanting to express art by addressing the current issue, although it was smart for a crack head to choose that scripture in the bible.

"What color, man?"

"The red one," Near took the spray can and shook it before he used it. He stood up in a blank space of the wall and started to paint.

The thugs listened to the sound of his spray and then they finally stopped what they were doing to look at what he was doing. Near was writing something and as he did, he had that smile on his face.

_I'm damaged, imprudent_

_Matured out of circumstances_

Near thought of the ways to counterattack. He knew he was going to have to talk to the cult members with Ian. He pondered on the details of this case. This was more than just a case now. A case would just fade when it was closed. No, this one will always be a case. This was also a fight till death; a fight that began seven years ago on that deserted storage room.

_I'm intolerable, atrocious_

_Malevolent not by choice_

"Where did you get that quote?" One of the thugs asked in a dreary voice.

"It's my own," Near stated simply.

_I'm leaking of vile_

_But what you see is fine_

Near has to stop the madness. He was the only one who could do it. Who else would it be if not L's successor? He was also becoming quite a legend himself after all.

_Today I'm alive_

_I'm human, I'm defined._

"Sweet, dude," the thugs sounded really impressed yet stoned anyway. Near threw away the spray can and stepped backwards to look at what he did. He smiled wider now. Yes, it was perfect.

He has a plan in mind.

 

* * *

 

 

**Valentine's Day, 2014**

_Near knew she was going to do it now._

_He watched as she faced the ground and stretched her arms like she was in nailed in a cross. Misa kept her eyes open. When she falls down, she wanted to be able to see the motions below her, the lights, the ground, the blood, maybe, if she could still process a thought once her skull cracks open._

_He just didn't say anything anymore. He just didn't want to waste any time he has while she is still preparing for the plunge._

_Misa knew this is it. She slowly stepped forward._

_Near spoke again and this time his words paralyzed her and she remembered not breathing when she heard it sharp and clear._

" _Marry me, Misa Amane."_

_She slowly turned around her head, just a little to take a quick glance at him. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Near took a step forward. He did not touch her. He kept his eyes on her. He just asked again._

" _Marry me, Misa Amane."_

_The words registered and she faced him. Then she lost balance and that's when she suddenly fell, loud wind blowing through her hair as her ears went numb._


	4. Chapter 4

_With hands held high into a sky so blue_

_As the ocean opens up to swallow you_

_-"Hands held high"-_

**4) Divided by Hatred**

 

* * *

 

 

The lust was starting to diversify, frolicking in inappropriate measures. The frittered and frothy actions of men became almost mellifluous in form though it tasted less appetizing. Ubiquitous it was with the hands of time touching layers of unexplored cells and when the overwhelmed towers of certainty became almost absent. The summit of all these dangers has come to take her. Misa Amane no longer fought it nor did she let it dominate her. The policemen held her firmly by either arm and they tossed her inside a white room. She remained blindfolded as she felt them stripping her off the white garb she only wore. When they accomplished the deed, she heard their footsteps leave and the door was shut, locked most likely, and the sharp wood hitting the edges of concrete cement echoed. She lay flat on her bare skin. Her flesh trembled from the cold air circling the space. She wanted to hug herself but she was bounded by chains. She remembered her first interrogation as the Second Kira. The awful memory was almost unrealized.

It was almost a déjà vu, being shackled and blindfolded again as an alleged criminal. Misa, to her horror, found herself laughing. It was not a nervous laugh or a laugh of a lunatic. It was a normal laugh that escaped her lips. This was almost salvation to her. How many times was she willing to sell herself? No prostitute could compare herself to what Misa was and will always be. She didn't only sell her body but even her faith and soul. Nothing was spared. Everything inside her was raped and scooped hollow. So she laughed, not because there was an indication of amusement or that there was nothing else to do. It's because she wanted to, she wanted so bad to laugh at it. Her throat felt warm and the muscles constricted as she did so.

This was almost salvation to her.

It took almost an hour for the door to open again. Misa thought she looked ridiculous lying on her stomach, wrists and ankles chained. An inward blow engulfed her body when she felt who it was. Despite the blindfold she knew darn well what that eerie, persistent presence was. She could magically sense him somehow that even the skin cells in her scalp can do as well. It was…what was the word, _awkward_ , maybe? There really wasn't any word to describe the sensation. He also didn't move or do anything to draw attention to himself. He stood there, watching her as he would always do. In many cases such as this, Misa gets the distinct feeling that it was as if L was watching her.

She resisted the pleasure she received from the late detective whose sunken dark eyes would pull her into his lonesome covers. Now his apprentice, the young man standing in front of her in a careful gait is giving her the same feeling. Although if she would be the judge of it, Near was nothing like L. Of course there are the frequent eccentric habits, the fixations and their too impersonal flair with working associates. That was where the similarities end. If Misa would be bold to say, Near reminded her of Light. She almost choked her saliva when she remembered Light. Sometimes when she remembers him, she would feel really sad. It's funny because she also felt the same way with Near. She could tell that she misses Light when he died but she really couldn't put her finger on the reason why she felt as if she wanted Near.

Wanted the young man who would definitely hand her the death penalty for what she had been doing. It wasn't love or sex that she wanted from him. She just wanted him, just wanted him to be here seeing her in this form, judging her if possible, urging her to stop the cruelty. Another stagnant moment had passed and he still stood there. Maybe Near was testing her, trying to pulverize the dignity she already lost. She didn't let that intimidate her.

"Why don't you touch me, Near?" she suddenly challenged. "This is _real_."

Was she trying to convince him or herself?

She could tell he approached at last. Then he gripped the chains around her wrists to pull her up. She was surprised when she felt his head on her chest. He didn't do anything perverted or hurtful but he just rested his ear there on her chest, listening intently. She was about to ask what the hell is he pulling off now.

He spoke to her clearly, "the first indication for a newborn baby to know who his mother is would be the heartbeat." Then he let go of the handcuffs and she fell back to the ground. She felt him stood up. She wondered why he said something so irrelevant but she didn't really bother interrogating him about it. He was trying to distract her. She really didn't care anymore so she lay still. She felt fingers untying the blindfold. After what seemed like five hours, she could finally see again. The first thing she saw was Near. It would have been so horrible but then again Misa actually appreciates it.

"You really did it this time." Near said a hushed whisper although there was only the two of them in the room. He twisted a strand of his silver hair and Misa adjusted her eyesight to stare at him. She resented the fact that they have to see each other again. It's not as if this was avoidable.

"Are you cold?" Near looked at her earnestly. Misa didn't want to admit defeat so she kept her mouth shut. Near chuckled a little and the sound vibrated in her chest. She was aware that she was naked and she didn't like the idea that Near could see her that way so she tried to shield her breasts from view. Near said nothing to that gesture.

"You know why you are here." Near began to talk once more. "I made sure that you are under my supervision until the court decides what to do with your little gathering."

Misa said nothing. She eyed Near impassively.

"You have become a really trying chore, Misa."

"I didn't ask you to interfere."

"If you did then this action is not interference, it would be a favor." Near removed his white trench coat and bent down to his knees slightly. He wrapped it around her. She felt like convulsing when she felt his hands once more.

He stood up and pulled a chair from the corner. He sat there in his usual sitting position, one foot raised up. He started curling a strand of hair. Misa realized that he was the same kid years ago despite the manly appearance.

"Explain to me everything."

"You mean confess?"

"Whichever way you prefer it."

"I won't hide the circumstances, Near." Misa spoke with a sure tone now. "And you knew. We left the surveillance cameras untouched. Everything was left to record the whole thing."

With that, Near looked across in a corner and nodded his head. A man in his forties appeared, pushing a wheeled table with a laptop on it. He did not look at Misa as he pressed the keys on the keyboard. The LCD went dark then a video was playing. Misa waited until the images were clear.

Then she noticed that men in suits were also behind her. There were three of them now including the first one who emerged. He was now beside Near, one hand on his shoulder. Near said nothing. They all watched silently.

Misa knew what footage this was. There was a lot of screaming. There was a lot of blood. She didn't blink. The others, especially Near, also didn't bulge either. The man beside Near, however placid, was obviously angry. His eyes were dark slits now, his hand on Near's shoulder was tight. The grip didn't bother Near. He just kept his own eyes on the screen, somehow bemused more than indifferent.

The footage ended. The man slowly pressed something and another one started playing. It was the same thing for at least six footages already. They watched it for almost half an hour, going through it quietly. When it was all done, nobody spoke, all were contemplative. Then the man beside Near moved. His eyes were on Misa now.

"We spent the last years trying to carry the world in our shoulders, in these bare hands. We have acquired peace throughout the past seven years after… _his_ time. We have survived it all. We have prevented crimes in an exceptional degree."

The man surveyed Misa carefully. "How dare you, Misa Amane, call _him_ a god and do these things in _his_ name, in the name of a cold-blooded murderer."

His voice was strained with emotion but still ice-cold. He was trying to remain level-headed. The other men behind Misa didn't speak.

"Thank you, Ian." Near simply said to the man.

"They were all criminals," Misa was speaking now, her voice low.

Ian eyed her sternly. "So that gives you a right? Two wrongs make one right? How clearly brainwashed are you, Amane?"

Near just watched them. Misa answered back, "They had it coming."

"Tell that to the eight-year old son of this man," one of the men behind her showed her a picture. "You killed an allegedly accused man who was about to be released because he was proven innocent and he was...innocent."

Misa looked at the picture blankly. Then she answered. "It's His will."

"Who's will?" The man holding the picture was closer now.

"Kira's will, justice's will..." Misa looked up away from the picture and said almost with adoration. "God's will."

Ian looked like he wanted to hit her but he just stood there, hands formed into a fists and resting on his sides.

The last man said to Misa, "What is the name of your God, Amane?"

Misa hesitated. Then she shifted her gaze to Near. "Light Yagami."

The two men in suit behind her let out a howl of laughter. Then they started throwing pictures at her like moving flash cards, citing in a speedy manner what they were making her see.

"This man was accused for attempted murder. He was about to be released five hours before your attack. He has a ten-month old daughter and wife waiting. The wife was dying of cancer by the way, late stage. Medicine can't prevent it but they could delay the action and lessen the pain. Still, four years from now the mother will die."

"This one was a nineteen-year old juvenile who is starting fresh and is just waiting for a legal release. He was proven guilty in theft and burglary but the charges were dropped because the people forgave him and saw the he was a good kid."

"And your little cult had slashed his throat as if it's potato."

"Oh, this is fun, isn't it, Amane? Care to give us your spiritual insights?"

"Yeah, maybe you could share us that divine intervention you have going."

"Can you heal wounds and walk in water?"

"Hey, Paul, that's an exaggeration."

"Yeah, but come on, this woman is a freaking miracle worker now! Come on, Amane, show us some of that, some of that jazz!" The man grabbed her lightly by the arm. Misa didn't move or react.

"Amane, we beg of you, punish us in the name of Kira! I was a bad man. I forgot to attend my son's soccer practice last week. That is evil, right?"

"Paul, you dimwit...she only kills murderers and those who get in the way for a better world. But I heard she does small-time crooks too."

"Oh, right! Better world…right. Maybe next time we can take her to a mental asylum so she could punish the criminally insane there. We have pedophiles there, serials too. You will have a bombastic time judging them like messiah."

"We will have your robe and scales ready, Amane."

"That's enough," Ian said quietly. He released the grip of fists and walked calmly towards Misa. Then he just looked down at her. With a slow gesture, he reached down and took off Near's trench coat. The other men took a step back, still ridiculing her but silently now.

"You don't even deserve this kindness," Ian handed Near back his coat. Near didn't take it, he just kept twisting his hair.

" _He who has not sin cast the first stone_ ," Ian said solemnly. "Well, Misa Amane, you certainly must be that pure and holy to cast thousands of stones using other people's hands."

"Yeah, total saint."

"Most likely a demigoddess in flesh."

Near stood up and finally took his coat from Ian. Then he nodded his head to the other two men and they nodded back and disappeared from behind. Ian waited for Near to say something else.

"We will keep you here until the court decides," Near explained to her as he put on his coat. "Till then, make the most of your time here. You'll eat two hours from now. Goodbye Misa."

Ian followed the young detective to the door. The concrete echoed once the door was shut, leaving only a prolonged silence accompanied by resignation.

 

* * *

 

 

**Five hours earlier**

Ian Rosenberg stormed inside the office of his boss, the young albino sleuth. His hair was disarrayed. His face was a perfect mask of horror. Near didn't even look up. He was attending to a cowboy puppet he was sewing earlier.

"Have you—"

"Yes, I have." Near placed down the toy and swiftly shuffled his deck of cards from the other side. "Bring her in."

Rosenberg was out in a heartbeat as Near calmly fingered a gold pocket watch. He kept his eyes fixed on the small ornament, breathing through his mouth for a couple of seconds. Rosenberg was back and he brought in two agents.

"These are Agents Paul Carlson and Agent Drew Leviste."

Near slowly gazed them from head to foot without saying a word. Then he rested his back on his chair and said, "Initial reports?"

The two agents looked at each other first before taking a step forward together. The one named Paul Carlson showed him a pocket computer and loaded it. He transferred the gadget into the "big picture" mode and the files appeared on air, suspended above them. He clicked on one folder and showed Near the pictures of the prison massacre and the victims.

"The ratio between the fanatics and the prisoners is ninety-seven is to two-hundred thirty-eight."

"Wow," Near remarked blankly. "Righteous rage does the impossible."

"They have a good strategy, if not good teamwork." Rosenberg explained humorlessly, "They gathered around as five people with two victims each, immediately overpowering them since they used sharp weapons like knives and so forth."

"Please show the weapons, Agent Carlson."

Carlson clicked another folder. Near didn't blink the whole time.

It was now Leviste who was speaking, "Forensics collected a total of one hundred and forty-two knives."

"They were packing all right," Carlson remarked silently. This was a serious matter and they all know it but sometimes sardonic humor would not hurt.

Near twisted a strand of silver hair. "Is she confined in the room, Ian?"

"Yes, bound and blindfolded as you have instructed."

The young sleuth slowly stood up, adjusting his collar and loosening his necktie. "Then please lead the way, gentlemen."

 

* * *

 

 

**The next day, Valentine's Day**

Misa was eyeing the other side of the room for almost twenty minutes now. She saw that the guards left her white garb there. It wasn't exactly within her reach. She planned on getting it by herself since the temperature is now unbearable. She tugged on her chains but the more she struggled the more it closes on her ankles and wrists. She whimpered in desperation. She started to crawl with her stomach on the floor. She has to have some small amount of will to endure this. Misa will not die by these means. She could live more years to tell her story.

_Damn you, Near. Damn you and your people._

She was not the criminal here so how could they be so cruel to her? She only did the right thing. She only followed God's command.

Misa's body was failing her but her mind power was nourished by seething hatred. She kept on crawling despite the pressure of metal against her muscles and veins.

_Damn you, you heretic buffoon._

Misa released a long whimper, pushing the sound against her teeth. She swallowed and moved some more, almost reaching the corner. She kept reminding herself that this was nothing compared to the pain of years gone by. This was nothing compared to the gaping shame underneath her deteriorating skin. She kept assuring herself that.

She finally got her hands on the clothing. She hugged it against her chest, crying her eyes out. Then she wiped the tears with the garb and tried putting it on. It took her five minutes but she was successful.

She knew she has to escape this place. She must warn the other followers. There was no point of giving up. There are more reasons to fight.

Misa forced the chains out of her wrists. She was bleeding uncontrollably. She still kept on pushing, scarring the flesh of her palms. She wailed and cried out but she did not stop.

After what seemed like eternity, she removed them at last. She let out another whimper. She stared at her bleeding hands. Then she hugged herself, trying to attain some sort of peace. She was still bleeding hard so she examined the wounds. They were exposed and sore. She licked the blood off then she tore a portion from her garb and wrapped it around her hands.

Now for the chains around her ankles. She couldn't stop writhing and whimpering from the pain. She breathed in oxygen through her mouth to add some more strength in her body. This was so much beating but she refused to back down. She pulled them out some more but they got tighter. The flesh was ripping its own self. Misa watched the blood coming out. Frustrated, Misa decided to pull herself to the door with the chain clanking behind her. Her hands refused to cooperate when she tried opening her only way out. They hurt like hell.

She looked around for another escape route but there was none. She was getting tired and sloppy.

Then the door opened. Near stepped in. He saw what Misa has done. He kept his eyes on the cloth wrapped around her hands that was soaked in blood. She looked at him defiantly then without warning, she stood up despite the shaking knees and the bleeding ankles. She pushed Near away and headed towards the door, running up a flight of stairs.

 

* * *

 

 

**Present: Valentine's Day**

_Marry me, Misa Amane._

How could he be such an insensitive jerk? For awhile Misa thought that she was finally going to die. When her feet slipped and she lost balance, she felt herself being pulled down by gravity and will. The wind blew through her ears. Now all she is expecting is the heavy thud and finally...

Near was fast with his reflex. He managed to grab her by the arm, almost throwing his whole body out of the ledge if only Ian Rosenberg and the other two agents weren't there to support and pull him out.

Misa could not believe it wasn't over yet.

When the men were successful in pulling them back to the concrete, Misa met Near's blank stare. She found herself crying once more. She is a complete failure. She angrily attacked Near, tearing off his collar as one of the buttons came lose. The other men stopped her. Near remained motionless the whole time.

"God damn you, Near!" Misa wailed as they started to take her back inside the building. "GOD DAMN YOU!"

Near fixed himself frigidly. He stood up and raised a hand to the guards. They released Misa.

He gestured his hands to her. "Come to me."

"Go to hell."

"There is no use, Misa. Come to me." Near sounded sincere and almost hypnotic with his words. "Let me handle it."

Misa felt really exhausted. Her body was already dead and incapable of movement. Her mind was empty. Her heart was shattered. She closed her eyes and collapsed to the last man on earth she will give herself into.

Yet she did.


	5. Chapter 5

_As the clouds above move closer, looking so dissatisfied_

_And the ground below grew colder as they put you down inside_

_But the heartless wind kept blowing, blowing_

_So now you're gone_

_And I was wrong_

_I never knew what it was like to be alone_

_On a Valentine's day_

_-"Valentine's day"-_

**5) Conquered by love**

 

* * *

 

 

Ian had always been a patient man. He was a sufficient and talented agent who would be retiring after ten years of active service. He lost his wife three years ago to another man. He had never loved anybody since then. Except Near. He loved Near like a father loved his son. In all the years of his profession, he never achieved a sense of self-worth, it was only when he worked for Near he saw silver linings. It was a foolish thought for an old man, but that's exactly what he is was: old and lonely. He only needed one thing to see this through. That's why he stayed in Near's office the whole night, ironing his white tuxedo. The young sleuth was on his usual position on the floor, constructing his favorite L puzzle. He glanced up once or twice to watch Ian, whose face was stiff as he ran the iron on the wrinkles of the polo shirt, taking his time. Near smiled a little, realizing he did like the older man around to do things for him.

"Ian, do you want coffee?"

"I asked your secretary for that already, Near."

"I will make it myself, Ian, that's what I meant."

Ian shook his head mildly, eyes glistening when he looked at Near. "You don't need to do that."

"I want to, Ian." Near stood up and proceeded to do so. Ian tried not to read into this too much. He was accustomed to the young man's formal callousness. It never bothered him.

Ian finished with the polo shirt and went for the pants. Near was still measuring the sugar. When he was done mixing the drink, he placed it on top of the saucer plate and carried it towards Ian. The older man nodded in response as Near placed it down beside him on the desk. Then the boy went back to his toy.

"Are you sure about this decision, Near?" Ian knew Near is always reasonable and all his actions were analytical and practical. But he was not pleased of the sudden turn of events.

"You could decline if you wish to, Ian.," said Near. "I know you were not fond of Misa."

"I have nothing against her personally. I feel really sorry for her, actually." Ian sprinkled some water on the garment. "But I will not forgive her for what she did to those people. And you seem like you don't mind at all."

Near said nothing.

"You said that we have to give importance to human life first before the case." Ian kept going, beckoning. "And what about those families who lost their husbands and fathers and sons? What could we give them? Women were killed, too."

Near finished the puzzle. "I intend to do something, Ian."

Ian waited.

Near spoke firmly. "I want you to stand by me and trust me. Can you do that?"

Ian switched off the iron and placed it on the desk. He lifted up the pants and hung them beside the polo shirt. He looked at Near at last.

"I will be here, Near."

"Thank you, Ian."

The two men spoke much less, for the entire evening after that.

 

* * *

 

 

**The next day, February 17**

Misa watched two women talking as she sat there with her back leaning against the wall, trying to take hold of her spine that was broken and tired. The women in question were talking about her, she knew that for sure. She did not know what to do about it. She just wanted to see Near. She sat there on one of the benches, eyes staring straight ahead. The door opened and Near came out with a package under his arm. It was a large box. Misa eyed it as he moved closer towards her.

"Do you like your room, Misa?"

"This waiting area is far more comfortable."

"I do not understand."

"I don't like it at all, that's all I'm saying." Misa stood up slowly, still ignoring the two women who were watching them curiously now.

"Take this with you when you go back to the room," Near handed her the box. Misa took it languidly.

"The wedding will be held tomorrow, Misa."

"I never said I wanted to."

"I asked you properly, and you're really not in the position to refuse." Near kept his hands on his sides the whole time. Misa looked up at his stoical face. He was a handsome young man, but he was still a boy with an air of an arrogant man. She did not like him before, and not even right at this moment. But she wanted him. She wanted to be with him just to see what it would be like.

Misa started walking away from him. Then she stopped abruptly, and turned to him one last time. "I will marry you, Near, not because I love you or because I hate you, but just because."

"Just because," Near repeated. "Yes, I understand."

Then Misa left him there.

She closed the door violently when she returned to her room. She threw the box away to the bed and pounded her fist on it. She buried her face and tried to suck in some air to her lungs. Then she calmed down.

She lifted the lid and peered inside, unwrapping the papers. She stared at it blankly. Then she took it with both hands to get a better look. It was a simple white gown, nothing that she wanted. There were small diamonds on the cleavage and the hem. She pushed them with her fingers. She spread it on the bed and observed it for a long time.

She cried, inhibited. She couldn't live with herself anymore. She couldn't bear the anger going up and down her throat. She lost. She was imprisoned again to a heartless man. What did she ever do wrong? Why did she not die that night?

There was a knock on the door.

Ian came in without preamble. Misa did not have to look to know it was him. His visits were. He placed some sort of a jewelry box on her table. He stood there and said, "Stand up, Amane."

Misa did what he asked but kept her eyes downcast.

"Have you taken your medication?"

"Yes." Misa stopped her fists from clenching themselves.

"Near wants your hair fixed." Ian walked towards her. The door opened again and the two women earlier appeared. Ian gave them instructions about what they will do to her hair. Misa stood still the whole time.

"Make it shoulder-length, with curls." Ian said in a stern voice. He was holding Misa's blonde hair lightly. The two women were also touching some strands of her hair. "Then have her nails manicured. Near wants them clean with French tip."

"Would she have anything else in her hair?"

Ian answered by handing the woman something. "Just this white ribbon."

"She would look like a doll, indeed."

"That's the idea." Ian's voice was so cold. "Near likes toys."

Then he walked towards the door and asked the women to come back here by five in the morning. They followed him out, and closed the door.

Misa remained on her place, eyes piercing through the jewelry box. She slowly walked passed to take it with her hands. Upon opening it, she saw a necklace with a single letter "L" as a pendant. It was the size of her thumb.

This was a sick joke, and it hurts. And with that, she found it very easy to cry. Then she wiped the tears quickly and put on the necklace.

 

* * *

 

 

**Wedding day**

Misa didn't sleep last night.

She stood perfectly immobile under the hands of her helpers. She ate breakfast at seven in the morning and then an hour after the two women helped her scrub herself on the bathtub. They fixed her hair and put on her make-up. They made sure she was as pretty as she was supposed to be. They ran their hands through her blonde hair and her white gown to smoothen down any creases. They smiled at and giggled amongst themselves, but they never once looked at Misa directly. They treated her as if she was a mannequin, and they had careless conversations around her without shame. Misa didn't mind the treatment. She just wanted to get it over with. They were done by ten-thirty and Misa was finally allowed to check herself on the mirror. She stared. She wasn't sure what she could possibly feel now. So she simply stared with the two women behind her, still giggling.

Ian entered the room and walked towards her immediately with a precise gait. He was dressed neatly with a black tuxedo and a rose pinned again his left chest. He glanced at Misa swiftly, then he said, "I'll walk you in the isle."

He handed her the bouquet of white lilies he was holding. She took it without caring. Ian left with the two women. Misa stood up, clutching the flowers, burrowing her fingernails deep into the stems and ribbon. Her eyes were heavy with eye shadow. Her cheeks were bright pink. Her lips were thick with red lipstick. She glanced back once at her reflection and felt paled.

Back in his own dressing room, Near was putting on his white gloves. He checked on his computer and sent a message to an important accomplice. He barely looked at the time. His face registered nothing but patience. In the center of his mind, he could only hope the plan would fall in the right places. Near pulled himself from his leather chair and fixed his white tie. After opening the door to let himself out, he wondered about visiting his bride. He had nothing important to tell her, but he wanted to see for himself what she looked like before the ceremony started. It was not excitement that dictated that he do him this. It was pure curiosity. So Near knocked softly on her door.

Misa was sitting on the bed. She had her head down. Near let himself in and said, "You look beautiful, Misa."

It wasn't a compliment. Both of them knew that. Then, Near left.

 

* * *

 

 

The wedding started at eleven. There were only few guests. Paul Carlson and Drew Leviste sat in front with the two women who accommodated Misa with her preparations earlier. They turned out to be these agents' wives. The priest was putting on his robe. The piano was being tuned. Nobody showed any concern about the event, especially the groom, who stood there in front of the altar. They remained dreary until Ian appeared with the bride. Paul and Drew grinned at Misa. Their wives giggled.

Misa tried to keep her feet walking to the music. She was getting closer to him. Each step took her closer to captivity. She would never be free again. Near would own her. He would have his way with her. She closed her eyes a little and for a moment everything in reality was blurred. Then she got to the altar and she faced the priest with him.

The usual speech commenced. Misa barely glanced at anything but the cross the priest was wearing. Near faced her as he said his share of vows. When it was Misa's turn, her voice, and her whole body, felt like they belonged to another person. As soon as he slipped the wedding band on her finger, she was now his doll. The priest looked at them wearily, his solemn manner indicating that he knew the terms of the arrangement. He said, "you may now kiss the bride."

Near lifted up her veil and placed a hand on her cheek. He kissed her forehead, while his other hand twirled one of her golden curls. It was a feeble contact, but it made Misa's nerves shiver violently. He pulled away and asked Ian to prepare a final report regarding the case. While he was busy confirming details with the older man, the priest took Misa lightly by the arm and said puzzlingly, "My child, be strong."

Misa met his gaze and tried to mutter a phrase that sounded like, "thank you, Father."

The priest let out a soft, compassionate smile.

The two women took Misa's veil and bouquet. Then they bowed their heads to her and left with their husbands. Ian gave Misa a brief hug and congratulated Near impassively. None of the people present were even one bit of joyous. It wasn't as if everybody saw Near's last resort as advisable. Misa was also baffled, but she was more baffled about how she agreed upon it.

This was clearly the saddest day of her life. And the evening began to approach faster than she expected.

Misa felt the toes of her feet numb as she followed Near to their chambers. Near slid in the key and twisted the knob. He let her in first before he closed the door and bolted it. The room smelled like flowers. It wasn't a strong scent, but it didn't calm her nevertheless. Near walked to the bed and lifted the covers slightly. Misa noticed that everything was white. She felt sick from the dull color. Most of all, the color represented Near too well: a blank void.

Near looked at Misa and said, "Sit on the bed."

She walked slowly, one foot after the other. Near observed her languidly. When she was sitting on the bed, he started arranging the pillows. He placed a pillow behind her and two on each of her sides. Then he asked her to lift her legs so he could put one underneath her thighs. The ritual puzzled Misa, but a lot of things about Near always did. It also frightened her. Near turned off all the lights except the ones beside the bedpost.

"I don't know how to perform sex," he said.

"There's nothing special to it," Misa replied.

"This is how I know it," Near said, without pausing for air, "I did some research and asked around. There's foreplay. You take off each other's clothes. There's kissing. You use your lips, the teeth and the tongue while sucking on each other's mouths. Then you lie down. The man is on top of the woman. They call it the missionary position. I enter through your female organ, which is called the vagina. I use my penis to accomplish that. How am I doing so far?"

Misa crinkled her brows. Then she laughed for the first time in the past few weeks. "You're doing well on technical terms."

"Knowledge is nothing without the experience."

Misa stared at Near. He was an incredibly handsome young man. His silver locks were ruffled, but appeared to glow. The white tuxedo suited him. There was still something inhuman about his pose. Misa took it as a challenge. She wanted him more than before. She wanted him to succumb. Was it now primal lust that held them together? She didn't care to know more.

She decided to make a move. Misa reached behind her to pull down the zipper of her gown.

"Let me do that," Near suddenly interjected. He walked towards her and sat on the bed behind her. He slowly pulled down the zipper then he abruptly pulled it up again.

"We should kiss first," Near told her.

Misa waited. Near stood up and faced her. He leaned closer slowly. Misa touched his lips with hers gently, then she pulled back. "When I do that again, press your lips firmly, and slowly part them once I do."

They did what she instructed. Misa stopped and said, "And close your eyes."

Near pressed his lips against hers and with her command, he parted them. He felt her tongue on his teeth. He opened his mouth some more. Misa placed her hands on his cheeks to capture his mouth further. His tongue gained full entrance and she endeavored to taste him entirely. His jaw remained stiff. She touched the tip of his tongue with hers and he loosened up. When Misa tilted her head for a better angle, Near pulled away.

"I can't breathe."

"You're supposed to breathe into my mouth."

"What is so endearing about this method?" Near hastily curled a strand of his hair. "We mix saliva. That is all I see to it—"

Misa silenced him with a powerful kiss, almost crushing their mouths. Near, to her glee, moaned. She bit on his lips savagely. He shut his eyes tightly, and finally felt an unwelcome sting in his loins. He had his hands on Misa's shoulders, both pulling and pushing her away. Then his fingers went through the mass of her blonde curls, and he gripped them hard. He kissed back violently. He never felt so...so real.

They tore themselves away from each other, breathing heavily.

"You surprised me.," Near said flatly.

"You liked it." Misa smiled.

A short pause. "You said before that I should touch you because it's real."

Misa waited.

"I'm going to have sex with you,'' Near announced matter-of-factly. "I will learn it well. Once I become good at it, we can do various techniques to further improve it."

"Okay." Misa felt her face flushed at the cold way he declared it.

"I only have one condition."

"Okay."

"Never say my real name when we finally perform intercourse," Near explained. '"Near' is okay. If you scream 'Nate…'"

He was now loosening his tie now. As he was unbuttoning his collar, he continued blankly," it will remind me of the only thing my mother kept screaming as she was being violated. Are we clear?"

Misa gulped and placed her hands on his chest, just to feel his heartbeat if he truly has one. "Clear."

They kissed gently this time, nibbling shyly. Near fondled her hair. Misa fondled his hair back in return. Then, he pulled away.

"When will I be able to see your breasts?"

Misa made a face. "I think you should stop talking and let your hands do that."

"I am learning," Near explained. "You should define to me the other legal methods verbally."

"Okay," Misa replied. "I want it rough, Near. I want you to strip me off as if you wish to hurt me. You can do your systematic bullshit afterwards."

Near opened his mouth to answer but Misa interjected, "Just fuck me."

"No."

He stood up, looking almost angry. Then, the emotion was gone. "I have problems doing it rough. Rough sex is rape. I do not approve on rape due to logical grounds from my past."

Misa wanted to smile but fought the urge. She struck a chord inside him. So far, so good. She decided to tease some more. "Then take me slow."

"I am going to." Near went behind her again and pulled down the zipper of her gown. Misa lowered the top, exposing her chest to view. Near decided to follow his line of thinking. There he was now, facing her back. What to do…he pondered on that. Then he decided to kiss her flesh. He traced her spine with trails of soft kisses. This is all new to him. He felt absurd doing it and not a bit confident. When Misa moaned low, he took is as a sign that he was doing it right. He then bit her skin. He kissed her on the nape and behind her ear. She moaned again, hands grabbing him by the knees.

"Does this arouse you?" Near asked in all curiosity.

"Face me and do the same thing to my breasts."

Near did what she asked. It felt really unnatural for him. As he closed his fingers around her round mounds of flesh, he wondered why he didn't feel the excitement Ian told him about. Is there something wrong about his—

"My libido," he suddenly blurted out. "There's something wrong with it."

"Your libido?" Misa raised an eyebrow. She was tempted to roll her eyes. She could hardly believe she was doing this with him. She didn't even want him. Okay, maybe a small portion of him. But if he were this reluctant and inexperienced, would it be worth it? Misa thought some more. This was about punishing him. This has nothing to do with lust. Now that was a half-lie. Misa wanted Near willing and yes, horny.

It would be a fun thing for her indeed.

"Well, considering you were badly introduced to sex when you were younger—"

"Do you really think it has something to do with my mother's rape?" Near blinked, almost innocently. Misa was the one taken off-guard.

"Yes." _Duh_.

"How will I do this with you then?" Near asked.

"You want me to lead?"

"For now." Chauvinistic bastard doesn't want to admit it. Misa narrowed her eyes.

"First there has to be passion," Misa said. She ran her fingers on his chest to feel his nipples. Then she unbuttoned his shirt some more. Near stayed still and gazed attentively.

"Then you have to surrender yourself to the moment," Misa added. "You see, in sex, there's absolute resignation. It's a beautiful thing, actually: two bodies as one in the powerful heat and friction. There's rhythm to it too, almost like music."

Misa closed her eyes dreamily. "And love. There's love in passion too."

"We need more pillows," Near unintentionally cut into her bliss.

"Why?"

Near twirled a strand of silver hair. "I think pillows will make me comfortable."

Misa did roll her eyes this time. "Are you sure you even wanna do this?"

"It's not that I want it. It must be done."

"Absolute resignation, Near."

He sighed and suddenly, in the most annoying fashion, poked her breasts with his index finger. Misa flushed. She has no idea how to react to this robotic childishness.

"I really don't feel my libido is responding well to the sight of your naked breasts, Misa. How could I overcome this difficulty?"

Misa knew only one way to settle this. She has to make him subordinate. With all her strength, she managed to push him to the bed with her on top of him. Near looked at her curiously. She started stripping him, saying, "I know you're new to this but I'm not. It's real. It will be good. Whether your libido is working properly or not, I'm taking chances. You will enjoy it. You won't whine unless it feels so good that you have to moan."

She quickly went down, tracing his chest and his stomach with kisses. She licked his navel slowly.

Near said, almost in a whisper, "That tickles.'

Misa unzipped his pants and run her hands slyly on his clothed package. Near hardly muttered a syllable. She decided to grab it so she could feel his manhood harden in her touch and it did. Near closed his eyes and said, "I'm feeling something."

She smiled mischievously. "And how does it feel?"

Near thought of it before answering in a low voice. "It feels good."

"Like good-good?"

"No," Near opened his eyes. "Just good."

Misa wondered why it seemed like an insult to her but she felt it was so she tightened her grip on it. Near winced. She started to bring it out of his trousers. Everything he wore was so white that it almost blinded her. It also tempted her some more. She now held his length in view, fondling it.

"You're holding my penis," Near said, too formally.

"I don't need you to state the obvious."

"What will you do now?" Near was more curious than aroused. He had never been touched like this at all. He felt rather bashful at the sight. He was nervous, too. "Misa, are we going to perform intercourse now?"

"You've never had oral sex before?"

"Oral sex," Near repeated as if he planned to define it. "Does that mean the mouth is used? I assumed since it's 'oral' so ah—!"

He was taken aback when Misa politely showed it to him. Near was breathing heavily through his mouth as he was making small noises in his throat. He didn't like how unfamiliar the sensation was. He didn't like it at all. Still, it felt wrong to prejudice this 'oral sex' since it certainly made him feel like his head was about to explode in a good way. Near also felt like vomiting. He was trying to voice his apparent disgust but words hardly came out. He decided to relax a little. He closed his eyes. He gripped Misa by the hair and she suddenly buried his length further in her mouth. Near let out a scream. She didn't stop at all. She placed her hands around his torso and kept sucking. After minutes he got used to it. He was finally enjoying it. He responded to her lips buzzing on the flesh of his shaft. He enjoyed the warmth of her tongue licking the tip of his dome. Her fingers closed on it tightly, and she started pulling it, hard. Near wanted to ask what she doing now. Then he noticed a surge coming over his body, like it was shaking his nerve endings. It felt a little painful. Near glanced down to get a better look and he saw his manhood covered with thick white fluid. With the most proud tone possible, he declared, "semen. That is semen, right, Misa?"

Misa looked at him flatly and nodded. Didn't he even explore himself, masturbate or have wet dreams before? This was ridiculous. She swallowed his cum eagerly. Near cocked his head on one side and asked, "Did it taste good?

She dismissed that question and climbed on top of him once more.

"Let's have sex now, Near." Misa felt she gained confidence from this. At least for a genius Near was an idiot when it comes to erogenous activities. She guided Near to her spot, pulling the gown up to her thighs.

"Misa, I want to be on top." Near knew he had to be the man here.

She looked at him, defiantly. "Would you even know how to fuck me?"

Near frowned. "Don't use that word."

"Yeah, yeah..." Misa was becoming impatient. She was wet and ready. She wanted to get over it so she could get some decent sleep afterwards. And her "husband" was not being cooperative.

She finally allowed him to be on top. Near tried to take some deep breaths, and then he asked, "What do I do now?"

"Fuck."

"That word upsets me."

"You put your penis inside me, between my thighs." Misa hated herself. Among other classifications of crimes, this was, the first time she felt she was committing the heaviest of them all. She took Near's hand so he could feel her moist folds on his two fingers. He said, "Slippery."

"It makes it easier for you to shove your dick in," she snapped.

Near glared at her. "I don't appreciate you talking to me like that."

As he spoke, he took hold of his manhood and without warning, he shoved it inside her as she commanded. Misa gasped, unable to control his hard length entering her. She glared at him but he went on and forced himself. She gasped again, grabbing the pillow within her reach. Near's face was blank. He looked at her without blinking. Then he asked, "Am I doing it right?"

"Just thrust in and out," she said simply.

Near did what she had instructed. He thrust in and out a slow, too methodical speed. Misa could hardly feel the heat. "Fast and harder, Near."

He shook his head. "Not yet. I'm practicing."

"Remember how I pulled your cock earlier?"

"How could I forget? It was three minutes ago."

"Right. Do the same thing while you thrust into me. Hard and fast."

"That would hurt you." As if he were that concerned for her welfare.

"Pain and pleasure is a good combination. Now go faster."

"Okay. Here." He moved his hips to gain speed.

"Uh-huh. Faster."

"Okay." He thrust deeper, with longer strokes. He struggled to breathe and keep his eyes open. Misa moaned.

"Faster."

"How about now?"

"Ah, Near!"

"Yes?"

"Near!" She gripped on the pillow harder.

"Yes...Misa?" Near could hardly focus because of the sudden heat.

"Fuck me harder, Near!"

"O—kay!" Near rammed against her forcefully, not realizing that he was absolutely aroused and that his libido is hitting the ceiling. He moaned with her. He liked how she called his name as he repeatedly plunged himself inside her without thinking of anything anymore. At that moment all he wanted was the vulgar verb. That vulgar verb Misa kept saying loudly, before his name.

They stopped when Near felt a painful tingling on his lower torso again. He stayed still, waiting for her instructions. They were sweating and breathing hard on each other. He could hardly move his arms and legs, yet despite of that, Near enjoyed the sex. It was like a puzzle. At first you have to construct the right pieces together but once they fall in their respective places—why the hell is was he thinking of puzzles? He liked the sex. Near was a normal man after all. Good to know in case people ever asked.

The next thing he knew he was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Misa had her head on his chest. Her blonde hair smelled like apples, and Near tried not to inhale the scent, afraid he might sneeze. He decided to fondle her hair just so he could get it away from direct contact with his nose. He wasn't thinking of anything in particular. Just that the sex was good and he must keep having it (spoken like a true Neanderthal, but what the hell) and then his thoughts went back to his puzzles. Misa broke into his thoughts.

"You were great, Near."

"With what?"

"You handled yourself well with what we just did."

"Ah." Near let a small smile form in his lips. "The sex." He's even starting to like the word.

Misa sighed. "Can you imagine how we ended up like this?"

"You and a cult, you and suicide, me and marrying you." Near took a pause and then he said, "Then we had sex."

"Are you mocking me?"

"No, I'm trying to make sense of it." Near yawned. "Of Kira, your supposed suicide, this marriage...the sex."

"Stop saying that word."

"At least it's not the vulgar verb."

"You're despicable sometimes."

"So not all the time?"

Misa said nothing. Near said, "We could have sex again tomorrow. It's a productive requirement."

"You're such a child."

"You married me." Near remarked as if it says enough.

"You're right." Misa felt a pang of guilt. "I did."

Near shifted to his side a little and said, "I used to think sex was crime itself. I never thought it was normal. I used to see it taboo and unnecessary unless it was for making babies alone. I thought it was boring, too. It turns out better than flying toy airplanes—"

"You sure talk a lot."

"You're a good listener. Shut up and do that."

Misa closed her eyes. "Why did you marry me?"

"Can we just talk about your favorite game?"

"Huh?"

"Do you like toys?"

"Stuffed toys maybe."

"I make good finger puppets. Want to play with them?"

"You know, you sound like you enjoy spending time with me."

"I'm married to you. I'm supposed to enjoy you as my wife...especially during—"

"Why do you keep bragging about that?"

"I was informed that couples either talk or cuddle after sex. And I have nothing intelligent to say at the moment. My libido is not yet wearing down. I have to indulge it while it's alive. I'm a weak man, Misa."

"You're mocking me."

"Marriage is built on the pretense of lie."

"You have sour opinions on everything personal and meaningful. You should change your outlook."

"Yours must be commendable, considering murder is your choice for a happy habit."

"Judge me and mock me as you please. I am more willing as your wife to have sex with you as long as you like it." She was being sarcastic.

"Great, Misa, hand me that pillow."

Their conversation lasted for another five minutes. After a while, Near was back in his pensive mood and went to sleep quietly. Misa lay awake the whole night, wondering if what she had done now had sealed her fate forever.


	6. Chapter 6

_No more sorrow_

_I've paid for your mistakes_

_Your time is borrowed_

_Your time has come to be replaced_

_-"No more sorrow"-_

**6) Momentary Nonexistence**

 

* * *

 

 

You were a young boy about eight years of age and you were standing in front of the window, gazing hopefully outside. You were dressed in your most comfortable pajamas, with your party hat on your head. You were smiling and your mother stood behind you, ashamed of having to break your heart again. She put a gentle hand on your shoulder. You looked at her, still smiling.

"Daddy will be home," you said with so much confidence. "He promised that he wouldn't miss my birthday."

"Your father just called."

The smile did not disappear. "Did he say when he is coming home?"

Your mother Sachiko knelt before you. "He said that a case came up, and he had to finish it."

The smile quickly fell apart. "A case?"

"Yes," your mother brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "I know that he wanted to come and celebrate your birthday. He bought a present in advance."

"So he knew that he wouldn't be here." You looked down at your feet. "So why did he have to promise he would be home?"

"Light," your mother's face saddened greatly. "How about we just start now? Your sister and I are still here. The cake is delicious."

You looked up at last and smiled again. "You're right, Mommy. I'm glad you and Sayu are here. I know he has to work."

You said it without bitterness and the smile was as genuine as before. Your mother wondered how you do that.

You walked towards the table, pulled a chair and sat down on it. You faced the cake and the eight burning candles above them. Your mother frowned and went behind you. You glanced at his three-year-old sister, and smiled widely at her.

"What should I wish for now, Sayu?" you asked her. The baby girl just giggled at you. Your mother waited patiently.

You closed your eyes for a long time and then you leaned down and blew your candles. As soon as the flames went out, you took the candles one by one and started slicing the cake.

"Do you need help?" your mother asked.

"This piece is for Sayu," You placed the slice on your sister's plate. You pushed it at her. Your mother nodded proudly and tapped your shoulder. "I'm really sorry that your father couldn't come."

You glanced at her curiously. "Don't be sullen, Mommy. Daddy is a busy man. It's just a birthday. He still loves me, right?"

"Of course." Your mother smiled faintly. "He is doing everything he can for our family."

"This is your piece." You handed your mother her cake. "Let's eat."

Your mother looked at you anxiously as she took a bite from the cake. "Tell me, Light, what did you wish for?"

"If I tell you, it might not come true." You said to her happily.

Your mother laughed. "You're a very special boy, Light. Your father thinks that as well. You are the light of our lives."

You grinned and finished your cake. As you all sat there, eating silently, you suddenly said. "I wish that he won't stop loving me."

Your mother looked up.

"I know he still loves me now," You explained softly with your soft and demure brown eyes probing sadly under your bangs. "But what happens in the future if I don't stay his good son anymore? What if I change? What if I disappoint him in the way? Will he still love me, then?"

Sachiko's eyes watered with tears. She embraced you. "Don't think that, Light. Your father would never abandon you or this family. And in whatever you do will always be proud of you."

You wanted to believe her but you knew that nothing was certain.

"Let's wash the plates after this, okay?" your mother wiped her tears and you on the cheek. "Happy birthday, Light."

"Thank you, mommy."

When your mother took Sayu to her room, you stared at the present that you father bought. You unwrapped it slowly. When you lifted the lid of the box open, you looked inside with a small, appreciative smile.

"What did your father give you?" your mother approached you.

You showed her. "It's a Sherlock Holmes' book!"

"Aren't you too young for that?"

"Mommy, learning always starts at a very young age!" You laughed at her confusion. "Besides, I want to be just like father when I grow up. I want to fight crime."

"Light," Sachiko could only smile.

You knew that there is only one way that your father would always love you and that is to love exactly what he loves: his work as a police officer. When you grow up, you would do things in the name of your father.

You are Light Yagami and you were everyone's friend in school, and you were every teacher's favorite student. No parents could be as proud as Soichiro and Sachiko Yagami were to have a son like you. You did not force to make your family to adore you. It was an easy task since you were intelligent and well-mannered for your age. You would make a fine man, your teachers would proclaim. Your life basically revolved around making yourself better than the rest in order to please the people you needed most. You will do well everyday in school and would quickly show your mother your achievements. They would put it on the fridge using magnets so when your father came home, he could see it.

You rarely saw your father, since he leaves left home early and comes home late. One night, you tried staying up the whole night and ended up sleeping on the stairs. When you father, found you there, he chuckled and carried you back to bed. You opened your eyes and fought the slumber so you could look at him. Soichiro kissed you on the forehead and said that he believed in everything that you could do in the future. He believed that you would become a good, honest and hard-working man.

You had more birthdays that your father missed and every missed one made you even more determined to get your father's attention. You achieved this in a fair scale. You studied harder until you are on the top that nobody could beat you. When you graduated grade school with many medals, your father was glowing with pride as he stood there with you on the stage. You liked the expression in your father's face. You knew this is just the beginning of your goal.

One afternoon while you were playing with some friends in the park, a young girl approached you and confessed her feelings for you. You felt flattered and since you are a real gentleman, you asked the girl if she would like to date. The girl agreed. The next day, You told your parents about it and asked the girl's parents for permission. The parents were so warmed and impressed of your gesture that they trusted you and allowed you to go out with the girl.

You treated girls with all kindness imaginable but although you had several dates you went to after that first date, you never really thought of having a real relationship. Your mind has not crossed that path yet. Your main focus is helping your father in the headquarters. You are a very perceptive boy. Soichiro found that you might just have the skill and talent to become a police officer. Sachiko was not okay with it since she wanted her son to live like a normal fourteen-year-old boy.

"Mother," You assured her. "Learning is a process. I know what I want in life and I have to start preparing now."

Unable to bear the fact that her son was maturing, Sachiko could not choose to let you make your choices while in the early age. This proved to be the best choice she could have made but you were busy on improving yourself everyday.

You are still socially likeable and very protective of your younger sister. You would always be there as a chaperone to parties and other gatherings for young Sayu. The girl liked you around a lot as well. Your bond is was healthy and strong, unlike any other siblings around. The Yagami family is was the portrait of perfection and happiness. Neighbors would even wonder how blessed this family is and that there might be nothing in the world that could be compared to them.

Behind closed doors, however, tension is developed. Family secrets are the dirtiest of all untold. The only secret that the Yagami family was unaware of is their son, the golden boy, who is becoming obsessed of bringing his goals to the next level. Nobody was suspicious because everybody saw that you, Light Yagami, is flawless.

You knew the dark desires inside you. You could not understand them clearly so you put them aside for a while. Though you kept certain matters to yourself, like that of the constant absence of your father as you grew, you were very much awake to the displeasure you felt. You knew that you were angry and envious of other boys your age whose fathers were always around. You tried not to think more of it. You believed that your father's absence did not mean that he is unreachable. Though most of the time, you would dwell on thoughts of rejection. Whenever you finished your homework and watch TV, you would think about your life and if you really liked how it had been going for you.

As you flipped through channels you would see reports of a growing number of crimes. At first you would daydream about your father the crime fighter and how swiftly he solved cases. You would feel elevated just thinking about how accomplished your father was in his profession and how subordinates looked up to him in his field. So you would watch the news all the time. Crimes of graphic content got seared in your young mind. You allowed your consciousness to absorb it. You accepted the presence of evil, stealth and deadly and hurtful to those who could not protect themselves. Once again, you would daydream that your father would reach into the corners of those poor, tormented souls and rescue them. Life is beautiful, you would tell yourself, and there is always hope and justice.

By high school, you are the top in class as usual and you started dating here and there but found the activity boring you. Needless to say, you could still interact with the opposite sex pretty well. It was as if you could convince the girl that she was special, without believing it yourself. You were learning to hide honesty to save your face and those around you. You learned to be scheming and you did not think it was wrong. No one was getting hurt. It was all part of the bargain.

Your teacher discussed once in class about one particular case in Japan that terrorized the half the nation. It was the massacre of three families in Tokyo. Your father and his team of specialists were investigating the case, of course. The class was asked to write an essay about it. You were there in his bedroom, staring at a blank sheet of paper and wondered exactly what to write. You turned on the television and the reports of the cases were all over the news. You watched each channel that talked about the massacre and informed yourself. Then you called your father's cell.

The answering machine picked up after the beep.

"Father when you get this message, I want you to answer me truthfully," you said pensively. "I know you already have the one who did this and you have enough evidence that could stand in court. Tell me, father, do you think he will get the punishment he deserves?"

You looked at the television screen. A man in handcuffs was being dragged away. You eyed his face and saw evil there. "Father, do you think he should pay with his own life for all the lives he has taken?"

Reporters flocked to the criminal, asking questions. He didn't look like he regretted anything. He was even grinning. "Father, do you think men like him have the right to walk the earth? Do you think he should die a painful, horrible death? Would that give you peace of mind? I think it would."

You gripped your cell harder. "I think that sick bastards like him should get burn to hell. The world is better off without them." You did not recognize the angry voice that was coming from you. It terrified you.

Then you closed your eyes, shaking in turmoil you could not put a name on. You took a long deep breath and realized what you just did. A voice on the other line was asking if you wanted that message to be saved. You pressed a button and deleted it.

No one should know. No one should see. Not even your father.

You continued to watch the news. You passed your essay and answered it with the same expected answer from any high school student. You did not want a happy ending for those criminals. Life imprisonment is not enough. You knew that they should all die and eat shit in hell. You pushed those thoughts away and went back to the monotony of your life.

Three days after that, the massacre case was decided and the criminal was sentenced to death. You celebrated. When your father got home, the two of you toasted to his success.

"You did the right thing, father." You applauded him warmly.

"I'm just glad that it's over," Soichiro tapped you on the shoulder. "It's good to be home with you and your mother and Sayu."

"Father?"

"Yes, Light?"

You thought about it and then you asked. "Is the life of a crime investigator fulfilling?"

Sachiko blinked. Soichiro laughed and replied. "In many ways."

"Then can I join you, father?" You asked excitedly.

"Light," your mother protested. "You're still in school."

"I would just go for a consult," You pushed through. "I am a good judge of character. I study criminal behavior in my spare time. I think I am qualified for this. father, you know I am!"

Soichiro frowned and then he said. "Light, you don't always have to follow every step I take, son."

You felt hurt. "You don't understand, father. I want to serve the people too. I want to help the victims. I want this, father. I found a purpose in life!"

Your parents looked at each other. Finally Soichiro said. "Only during weekends, son. Promise me that this won't affect your studies."

You hugged the both of them. "I promise to make you proud."

The two of you spent more time together during weekends and you felt comforted by the fact that you were finally getting close to your father. By the end of the day you could see that your father's energy was drained. You could see him exhausted. You felt sorry for the old man but you admired his dedication. When you retired to bed, you could not sleep so you decided to browse the Internet. You read about newly reported crimes and criminals on large. You felt a sense of fury sweeping inside you when you read the details of their crimes and the testimonies of the victims. You felt as though the world was ugly and rotten. These bastards were destroying the peace and order you dreamed about since you were a boy.

Then you remembered your birthdays and your mind dwelled on that dangerous place once again. You imagined your fourth birthday when your father was not home. What year was that? You typed the year on the search engine next to the word 'crimes.'

You clicked on hyperlinks until you found a long list of crimes committed that year. Then you specified the date: **February 28**. And then the location: **Japan**.

You found eleven cases recorded around the district your father works in. You read each case and concluded that two of these might have kept your father away from home for a long time that he missed your birthday. A new wave of fury was shoved to your chest. You remembered more birthdays and linked them to many crimes that your father investigated during the times he could have spent it at home with you. You were consumed with anonymous hatred.

A violent, selfish thought flashed before you.

If only there were no crimes and criminals in the world then men like my father would have more time for their families.

_If only that stupid murder case did not take him too long, he might have gotten there n time to see me blowing out the candles on my birthday cake._

_If only those heartless_ _bastards_ _would give it a rest._

_If only they stopped hurting people and destroying lives._

_If only they would all fucking die and rot in hell._

You shook the thoughts away and turned off your computer. You lay on your bed and tried to get some decent sleep.

Years passed by and your life was soured by every crime reported. You were overly affected by what was going on around you, but you kept silent. You did not let anybody see it. You controlled and stored it somewhere safe.

One day you saw something fell from the sky while you were in class. When you were going home, you walked around and found a notebook lying in the ground. You took it and read the words written on the back.

**The human whose name is written in this note shall die.**

After much logical debate, you took it home and read the instructions further. Then you laughed and found it ridiculous, although you could not resist finding out the results. So you wrote a name of some criminal you are was watching on TV. Forty seconds after, the reporter said that the man had died.

Impossible.

You tested it again the next day. When you were convinced that this is real, you decided to finally fulfill what you had been thinking about every time you went to sleep. You could no longer contain your excitement. You proceeded to write more names of convicted felons for one whole night. It was all too good to be true.

**I have all the characteristics of a human being: blood, flesh, skin, hair but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust.**

The next night, you were visited by a Shinigami named Ryuk. He told you how he was bored, so he dropped the Death Note in the human world. You were relieved that the notebook was now yours, and that you own it and you could do whatever you want with it. Ryuk asked for no exchange, but he would stay around you while you were using the Death Note.

_**Something horrible is happening inside of me and I don't know why.** _

_**My nightly bloodlust has overflown into my days.** _

You told Ryuk your aspirations. You told him that you wanted to cleanse the world from evil and build a society where there are only good people who live in it. You dreamt of becoming a God, and to eliminate anybody who will get in they way of your vision. With the Death Note, all would be possible. You will get rid of the criminals. You will make his father proud of you Ryuk found you to be an interesting human being.

You, Light Yagami, used the Death Note in accordance to your goal and from there on, your intentions were made clear. You might seem like some cold-blooded murderer but that's not what you are all about.

_**I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy.** _

_**I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.** _

Had you entered a dangerous territory, a labyrinth where you lost yourself and could never find your way back again?

**Five days before Valentines' Day, Year 2014**

On a faraway land somewhere both between the civilization of this century and an obstructed past trying to veil itself, a high-security-protected ward stood in sight. It was clearly for a different purpose, which no one knows. While most buildings were offices or firm companies, this particular construction was renovated for exclusive use of the American government's top agency back in 2010. Four years came to pass that is but it remained serious cement and by far, a speculation to tourists. New York City, particularly Manhattan, had long been a state and the skyscrapers were far more formed into something horribly conceptualized electronics. Distinguishable features of its façade stood out almost radiantly by mornings when people go around the streets with their elevated pad shoes (an invention by a marksman in professional flying footwear) and would always greet the incredibly fascinating structure with awe and contemplation.

During nights, however, the ward serves as a passage to the unknown. It was not haunted stories, which you will hear about it. No, the belief in the paranormal was no longer taboo. Science found ways to support its existence, and is now commercialized by the media even more than it was back in the early 2004. Ghosts do not terrify children anymore. Nuclear explosions and aliens invading this world are the stories to take seriously. The spiritual and unconscious minds are supported with scientific findings and the universe is open for discerning learners. Astrology is a common interest for college students from any university. So as you can see, people didn't get scared with stories of ghosts and curses and hidden secrets. But the ward has an enigma wrapped around its rooms. People had long ignored it, but a somewhat ancient secret was sealed inside, begging to be silenced, but forever horrendous in both shape and sound.

The top agency responsible for the "diversified" use of this ward was called **LMN**. Nobody who doesn't work for this agency would know what the initials meant (but those who read the novel "A Triad of Justice against Kira" based on the famous case will recognize the symbolism. To the common people, it is more popularly known as the Bureau of Crimes. The agency kept the ward out of the public eye. They were successful so far in gaining the attention of the chroniclers and even thieves. Rumors had circled but no mind could stretch that far enough to figure out the inexplicable, often incomprehensible, horrors of a single building puts up with.

Inside the laser doors and certified high-voltage alarm system, a well-known prisoner was monitored and kept secretly so that even the prisoner himself had no idea what got him there and why he is living the remaining years of his life in a monotonous existence. It was routine now for him and he never complained or bothered to reflect on events of his life. It was useless and he felt lazy as well. It must have been years now and he was comfortable with the home he knew now after he lost his memories somehow. He was a pretty smart man though and he knew that he was not in a mental institute. It was also not like any kind of jail. Still, he felt like, on some boring days, that he was a prisoner. Sometimes he would select random thoughts about his identity, daydreaming of the possibility that he was human before. The moment he woke up, he was attending duties like eating (yes, this was a duty. Eating was carefully opted for by nutritionists who observed him with their metallic charts of progress) and exercise (he would go jogging around an improvised park inside the ward and would do this out of nothing else, not even motivation. H was not allowed to read even books or listen to music. He was not allowed to know what year he is living in. They did not want to inform him for some reason.

He did not become curious. There are also penalties that prohibited him from being free and discontented. When he tries even the slightest muscle movement that would indicate that he was aggravated or angry, a suspension belt that is run by small voltage of electricity would take disciplinary action and send a signal to the authorities of the ward. Then they would sedate him again and he hated sleeping too much. It caused strain. He could not really remember his first moments here; they all feel and looked and felt the same. He learned to practice detachment. He really does not feel like human anymore. He wondered if that was good or bad, but even ambiguity is exhausting to think about.

The room they kept him confined in was white like the whole building and there was a small toilet (which by the way was allowed to be used only during seven in the morning, three in the afternoon and nine in the evening before going to bed) and mirrors were restricted. He felt sad about that because he wanted to make his a tad presentable at least. At least make that available, they had taken away everything else. He was, however, allowed to shave once a month. A helper would be assigned to watch him and hold the mirror. Sometimes he felt tempted to sear his flesh with the blade. He wanted to die. But suicidal thoughts were too exhausting to think about, especially when he got the taste of his first shock of electricity for that behavior. The next day was shave day. He would finally see himself again. Ridiculous in terms but it gave him something to look forward to, and he needed that. He needed desperately to grasp on something, at least that, just that and it would be fine.

But it never would be fine.

If his estimation was correct, he is was already thirty-four years old, but no one cared about birthdays here. There seemed to be many of them around, but he when he thought about it, he concluded only eleven prisoners/patients were living and breathing (but dying inside) around the ward. They were not allowed to see each other. Each prisoner was a special case, an individual with special needs. Not like that would be a comforting thought to help him sleep at night. Well, there are was always the pills and injections they gave. He was used to that.

If worse came to worst, depression would cloud over him and he would tell this to his therapist. Therapy day was Tuesdays.

"How does it make you feel?" his therapist was an elderly man with shining spectacles and a ruddy face. He would peer at him, convincingly sympathetic. _Bastard_. He just wanted to strangle the damn doctor every session, every second in his goddamn office.

"Empty," his way of speech, the cadence of it, was even weird for him. He spoke slowly, the effect of drugs and boredom coinciding, probably.

"1031, you are making a great deal of progress, you should keep it up."

"I understand, doctor."

"Have some extra cardiovascular exercise, later. I will have it scheduled."

He had the impulse to roll his eyes but he did not. "Thank you, doctor."

"Thank you, 1031."

 _Son of a bitch,_ he calmly thought to himself as he left the office and was guided to the fitness room, _hypocritical son of a bitch_

It was an average day. Again.

Something unpleasant occurred. For the past week (he would not know, calendars are not the thing around here, so this is just an educated guess) he had received unwanted attention from a certain person. He was subjected to a thorough investigation in a room somewhere in the grounds. The access is limited to personnel and a group of scientists.

He tried to distract himself while he was being watched. He felt rather...more than empty...violated? Maybe. How could he tell now?

Behind the restricted window while the prisoner was being examined, a young man watched silently, taking everything in. He had been conducting this analysis for a long time, but instead this close to the subject. Then he did something he had never done before. He ripped off the boundary. He opened the door leading to the room where they had detained their prisoner, _his_ prisoner, and saw him for the first time in seven years.

The prisoner did not take a good look at his face, for he was in the middle of being sedated once more. He did, however, remember that he was a young man, very young, with silver locks and dark, penetrating eyes. Then he knew no more after he closed his eyes at last.

Near watched, approximately seven yards away from the other man, and said nothing or thought nothing for a moment. And then a small smile crept onto his lips. Playful intervention came to posses him. Yes, _his_ prisoner. He even selected his code number for a mocking sentimental value.

 _1031 is October 31, is it not_? Near said to himself, _and that date will brand you for the rest of your life now..._

...Light Yagami.

 

* * *

 

 

**Shinigami World**

Ryuk could not suppress a laugh that day.

He had anticipated this, waited for seven whole years. He was in his usual position, watching events unfold in the human realm. It never failed to amuse him.

He kept thinking about what a sound decision it is was that he accepted the bargain of this condescending child. He did not regret it.

It was enjoyable. Well, humans were interesting, weren't they?

Ryuk craved apples, but he had something good now, something worthwhile that could help him get through the dreary days of the death world.

Something he earned seven years ago when he did not write Light's name in his death note: a splendid show.

 _Yes_ , the Shinigami thought happily, _this should be good, Near. You promised._

Back in the human world, Near kept twisting a strand of silver hair, as his way of thinking did not change at all, even after seven years.

This is for Mello.

With a single sweeping motion, he turned away from the ward and started driving his car back to his apartment, to his new wife.


	7. Chapter 7

_Telling me to go_

_But hands beg me to stay_

_Your lips say that you love_

_Your eyes say that you hate_

_There's truth in your lies_

_Doubt in your faith_

_What you build you lay to waste_

_There's truth in your lies_

_Doubt in your faith_

_All I've got is what you didn't take_

_So I won't be the one_

_Be the one to leave this in pieces_

_And you will be alone_

_Alone with all your secrets,_

_Your regrets_

_Don't lie_

_You promised me the sky_

_Then tossed me like a stone_

_You wrapped me in your arms_

_And chilled me to the bone_

_-"In Pieces"-_

**7)** **Two sides equated**

 

* * *

 

 

Near allowed his wife to believe she was being adored. He lay on their bed, on top of her, listening to her deafening silence as her brown eyes swept into his own. He held her with both hands, his fingertips almost sinking to the flesh of her wrists. She had her lips parted, and with all her strength she lifted herself up to kiss him in the mouth. She had her eyes closed but his remained watching. She tasted like saliva, but the taste was bitter it made his throat go dry. Her body was trembling against his. She was sweating and panting and begging him to go on. When he removed his hands around her wrists, she ran her fingers through his hair. He kissed her harder because he knew she wanted it. He plunged himself inside her deeper because he knew it would drive her mad. He wanted her to be his, and when you mark your territory, you woo it into submission.

There was a lot of grunting and moaning and other muffled sounds. Then there was completion. When they have reached the climax of their supposed lovemaking—to Misa it might have been but to Near it was more like part of the matrimonial requirements—the young man slowly lay down on the bed, gathering his breath as he stared up at the ceiling. He regarded the woman beside him indifferently.

She returned it, but with a less stoical gesture. She turned to rest her head on his chest, crumpling once more the creases of his white pajama top. She played with its buttons. He didn't move from the touch. He kept gazing up. Misa didn't mind this. She just wanted him to hold her close. He knew that and he had his arm behind her, hand above her shoulder blade. She closed her eyes and inhaled him. She thought about irony, she thought about Light and it almost brought tears to her eyes. So she try to forget about being sad or being happy. Just the feel of his body pressed against hers is peace. No, not peace. Nothing but that. There was no word that could explain the feeling. Empty, maybe? But she wanted it nevertheless.

Near was thinking of what she was thinking. She might be regretting this, but she knew she had no choice. And what about him? He knew he wanted Misa out of power and lust. The power that comes from years of trying to gain full possession of the men before him, he wanted to be the last one standing. And the lust, the animal instinct, the carnal gratification that is considered normal. Sex was an impressive display of control. Sex was what Misa could give him but in more ways she could baffle and keep him excited as well. He wanted to know how it would be for her if she found out the truth. He wanted to know if he also had power to break her now that he had molded her back into the right shape.

 

* * *

 

"Where were you last night?" his wife asked.

It was around nine in the morning when he got back home. He looked over at the curtains **,** and wanted to pull them across so the sun would stir their slumber sleepy heads. He answered, "I was at work."

She yawned and sat up, fingers tracing his chest. "You want to eat anything?"

"Would you pull up the curtains for me, Misa?"

She began to walk around the room and did what he asked. Then she picked up their clothes from under the bed. She folded his pants while he remained lying there, eyes squinting from the sun's light. He sat up at last and yawned. He rubbed his eyes and run a hand through the untidy silver locks of his hair. Then he said, "Wear something nice this evening. I'm taking you to a dinner party around seven."

"What's your definition of 'nice,' Nini? **"** Misa placed herself on his lap, fixing the stubborn silver locks. He looked up at her blankly.

"Something elegant, something white," Near run his hands to feel her breasts. Then he added, "You're thirty-seven now, Misa. You're no longer a young girl."

Misa's lips curled into a half-snarl. Near saw it and smiled enigmatically as a response, saying, "You always turn heads, Misa. You turn mine. Why do you think I asked you to marry me?"

They remained silent. They knew why, and they didn't. Near observed her reaction. Misa just blinked. Then she smiled and kissed his forehead. "I'll see what I can wear for you, Nini."

She walked to her closet and opened it, exposing a large mirror. She looked at herself and realized how young she looked despite her age, despite the pain she'd been through. There were barely any lines in her forehead. Her skin was still fresh and fair like it was when she was in her twenties. And her blonde hair was still the same richness in color. It was only her eyes that gave it away. There was finally a gleam of adulthood in those brown eyes. No longer a foolish young girl. Now a woman of substance. Misa doesn't know how to feel about it, but there was, of course, pride.

Near watched her as she looked at herself in the mirror. He was smiling dully. He knew he had affirmed her and made her glow in that. He looked at her and knew she was still attractive. She had those curves and Near liked the strong legs that wrapped themselves around his waist whenever they made love. He couldn't hide the bemused look in his eyes.

"I found something, Nini." She lifted a dress so he could see it.

"Yes, that's perfect."

But he was barely referring to the dress.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Manhattan, Wednesday evening** _

Misa stepped out of the limousine. Paul Carlson watched the petite woman glide as she walked. He kept his chin up, his dark sunglasses hiding the grim fascination he had for such a woman. Ian was beside him, looking at Misa as well. Paul coughed while saying, "She calls him Nini, you know that?"

Ian said nothing. Paul added, "Like a pet or something."

"Nini is derived from Near."

"Doesn't take a genius to get that one right, Ian but I doubt idiots can figure out the simple meaning behind this whole marriage thing."

Ian glanced slightly at him. He couldn't care less. "You look like hell."

"Of course I do, my wife dragged me here."

"I wish I could say the same for myself, you lucky asshole." Ian smiled at Misa when she finally saw them waiting for her.

"Ouch, truly sorry, Ian. That wasn't my intention."

Ian looked at him, bewildered at first then he chuckled. "Nah, I'm probably the lucky one because I'm a bachelor."

"Yeah, lucky asshole." Paul extended his arm for Misa to take. The new Mrs. River nodded her head and placed her hand, and she let him escort her inside.

"This seems to be a promising night," Misa remarked to no one in particular. Ian was the one who responded.

"It's for corporate greed, fair lady, and among other things that people here gathered for. It's an event our agency has been going to for four years now."

"The spicy crustaceans are delectable, that's what I go here for," Paul added. He grinned around the others they pass by, and then he whispered to Misa, "they make me sick."

Misa pondered that. Paul looked at Ian and mouthed "fair lady?" and Ian just shrugged his shoulders, and they squeezed themselves in through the crowds.

Misa saw her husband at last. He was beside a champagne fountain, staring emptily at the alcohol. He had his glass under it and she wondered if he wanted a drink but it looks more like he's simply playing with it. Typical social retardation from Near, as always. She gazed at his white suit that fitted him just right in every angle. She smiled, wondering why she was giddy just looking at him. It's was almost disgusting.

"Too young for that, Near." Paul nonchalantly grabbed Near's glass and gulped the contents down hard.

Near turned to his employer and replied point-blank. "I have sex."

Paul raised an eyebrow as if that's the stupidest thing he had heard from his boss. "I see the connection. I really do."

Ian took this as a cue to explain. "Near is suggesting that if he's old enough to have sex, then he can drink. Sorry, I think you're being sarcastic, Paul. But just in case you're not..."

"Yeah. Crystal explanation, Ian."

Misa watched the three of them and found it strange that everything seemed all too goddamn natural. She married the man who symbolized everything her last lover was against and she's drinking with his agents who had stripped her naked and mocked her as they interrogated her for her crimes.

"A lot has happened since we gave those nutjobs the death penalty. Cult activities decreased to a nonexistent proportion." Paul offhandedly commented. Ian shot him a look that Misa caught. She pretended that the conversation has nothing to do with her, since Paul was doing a good job acting that way.

"I don't think Mrs. River is comfortable with this conversation," said Mr. Sensitive Ian.

Paul made a face and said, "I think I preferred more when you addressed her as fair lady, pal."

Near blinked and cocked his head to one side. "Fair lady?"

Paul gestured his hands with open palms in an expression of ridiculousness. "I know!"

Near turned to Ian. Ian shrugged his shoulders. Misa mentally rolled her eyes.

"Those goddamn fools don't know anything 'bout politics!"

Near led Misa to a group of men with their wives. Three of the women greeted her politely, and Misa returned the sentiment with less enthusiasm. She gripped Near's hand and focused her attention on the man scolding passionately among them as they circled around him. He was a pudgy, tall man with a high-pitched voice.

"Shit-brained fools got no settled score," he was saying. Few people from other crowds turned their heads to their group once in a while. "I told my wife once that I could take a hammer to their heads anytime, anywhere."

"Mr. Marlon Jenson is president of the biggest company producing magnum shoes." Ian appeared from a corner and whispered to Misa gently. "Mr. River would like you to welcome his wife, Misa River." He placed his arms behind Misa and Near, addressing the group,

"Mr. River has chosen a wife well." An almond-eyed brunette measured Misa with a small smile. Ian was called by the host and left. "Or has Mr. Rosenberg chosen for him?"

"I make my own choices, Ms. Debritt." Near regarded her politely. She laughed.

"Gladys, don't embarrass the boy!" Mr. Jenson countered. He turned to Misa and winked. "My sister-in-law is a control freak, you see."

"Dandy," Near answered. He smiled crookedly at Gladys, who returned it. Misa was not paying attention. She was staring at her wine glass as if nothing could be more interesting, until someone blurted out, "Are you the Lady of Justice?"

The women looked at a fiftyish woman with a weathered but kind face. Suddenly they were all looking at Misa, each with their own version of mock curiosity. The other woman beside Misa, maybe around her age, looked away and whispered something to her husband and they excused themselves.

"You're brave to stand up for yourself like that." The elder woman kept talking between giggles. Her tone was too cordial. "Lucky you, having a teenage detective smitten all over you, eh, Mrs. River?"

Misa was about to reply she considered it no luck or coincidence. It was premeditated. She was reminded again of how much she could hate Near. Her ears felt hot but she didn't look down, didn't give the other women a chance to condemn her.

"Regine, darling!" Gladys laughed heartily. She was thankfully more accommodating. She addressed Misa. "She's nosy just like old women are doomed to be."

She took her brother-in-law's arm and gazed at Misa with open wonder. "How about a dance? Regine's husband will come for her later. Isn't that right, darling? You don't mind Mr. and Mrs. River leaving your company, do you now?"

Regine didn't display her disdain publicly. She made a quick bow and smile then she went away.

Gladys led Marlon Jenson to the dance floor. He grinned and placed his arm around her waist, pulling her close. Near did the same thing with Misa. They met each other's eyes.

"Can you dance?" Misa asked him.

"I have yet to discover my sense of rhythm."

"Just like in sex, eh, Near?" Paul appeared from nowhere, holding up a plate while devouring a lobster. His face was slightly red like he had too much playtime with the champagne fountain.

Ian placed his shoulders on the man and said, "Inappropriate, Agent Carlson." They left.

Misa turned back to Near. "This is ridiculous."

"Nonsense!" Gladys went between them. Her eyes sparkled as she announced. "I shall gladly teach Mr. River if his wife doesn't mind."

"I don't..." Misa watched them turn around together to the music, drifting away from her, "...really care."

Mr. Jenson asked her to dance, and she did because she was bored and she had no choice, and it would help her observe that suspicious Gladys smiling welcomingly at Near's bemused face.

When they made themselves comfortable at the dinner table, Misa gripped Near's hand again, this time with spite. Then she leaned down and asked, "Do you wanna sleep with her?"

"Like sex?"

"No other kind, Near."

"No," Near answered then he considered the thought later. "But under the circumstances, it seems unavoidable."

"She fancies you." Misa looked away, annoyed that it was pissing her off.

"I vowed fidelity to you."

"You saved me from the death penalty."

Near was smirking. "I bought you those shoes."

"I give you neck massages."

"The list goes on." Near turned serious. "Do you want to tell me what's the real problem is?"

Misa glared at him. Near surprised her when he grabbed her leg from under the table and slid his hand between her thighs. Misa's breath stopped as he her heart pounded in her ears. She looked at Near. "You don't own me."

"Not now..." Near run his fingers to toy with the thick panty hose. "...not yet," he slowly pressed his two fingers on the spot he knew would stimulate her and whispered, "but soon."

Misa closed her eyes and allowed him the tour. She helped him lower her panty hose just an inch down her knees as the people around them are busy dancing and laughing. She controlled her moans as Near's eyes were intently fixed on her expression.

He methodically explored her, wondering if she was soft and moist this whole time. He imagined Gladys, but Misa so was real to him that he didn't care about other women now. He let her go after a while and wiped his fingers on the tablecloth. Then he stood up to excuse themselves from the host so they could go to a room somewhere and, yes, he thought fondly, make love.

 

* * *

 

Until she spoiled it.

"I don't like synthetic rubbers on my penis."

"I don't think you want a baby, Near."

Near bit his lip down and stared at her for seconds. Then he removed himself from the sofa, taking the condom. He unwrapped it. "How do I do this?"

Misa helped him. Near asked. "Why use this cheap marketing fraud now?"

"It's not a cheap marketing fraud because it's highly effective."

"I might be allergic."

"Shut up if you want to get laid." Misa pulled him down as she lay on the sofa. "And the reason why I allowed unsafe sex twice is because I just finished my period then. Now I might be back on the cycle."

"The vagina is too complicated," Near sulkily remarked as Misa started kissing him. She ran her hands on his chest, feeling the tightness of his manhood inside her. She closed her eyes and moaned softly into his hair.

The door opened. Someone stepped in. Then a vase fell.

"Holy fuck—"

"Dammit, Drew! I bought them that vase!" Paul's loud and definitely drunk voice bellowed in the room.

Drew Leviste immediately turned back to the door but Paul was clumsily trying to make his way inside. He bumped on Drew and they fell. Misa tried not to make any noise as Ian made an entrance.

_Don't turn on the lights, don't turn on the lights..._

"Stand up, this is not the restroom." The commanding voice said. Both Misa and Near breathed calmly, not moving.

"I think I twisted something."

"Get off me, man!"

"Okay, everybody just calm down, I'm gonna turn on the lights—"

Near acted rationally, a final attempt to save them face. "This is closed quarters, gentlemen."

Drew bumped into something again. "Shit, is that—Near? Where are you?"

"In my wife's loving arms, performing a sexual act. Please leave and lock the door."

Silence. Ian spoke, "Come on, you two. Good night, Near...Misa."

Misa sighed and answered, "Yeah, night, fellas."

They shut the door and left.

They waited for a moment before the humor could sink in. Misa laughed. Near just smiled, and she could tell it even in the darkness. He has to find this unutterably humiliating and funny. Nobody is that completely dead-on unfeeling especially when it comes to silly situations like this. He was still laying on top of her. She wrapped both legs tightly on his torso.

"Should we proceed, Mr. River?"

"Waste of condom, so yes, Mrs. River."

 

* * *

 

What a jolly time. He got electrocuted again.

Ever since he has been having those frequent visits from the mysterious young man, he was having nightmares that didn't make the least bit of sense in broad daylight. But when he went to sleep, the dreams chased him and they became real.

He jogged around the perimeter, as an early task scheduled by the ward for this morning. The nutritionists gave him a heavier sedative last night, which caused a deep, deep sleep...and unexpected hair-raising nightmares. He woke up violently, and this triggered the belt and it sent electric shocks throughout his body. Well, he needed the pain. Better that than constant disconnection from feeling altogether. This simply meant that he was still human.

The ward watchers weren't pleased with this though. They must have marked his progress chart 'recovery delayed by fucked-up seizures' because they've been driving his ass harder than usual. He needed that to, a break from the monotony of activity.

He needed change. But as he began to internalize it, he realized that he needed better.

Escape. He needed to escape to life or whatever was near that goal.

So the following night, he made plans. He spent therapy sessions talking as usual with the old bastard but thinking of ways to maximize his chances. He observed the walls more. He observed his handlers more carefully. The slightest mistake on their part would make it easier to see that they, too, were flawed, and he will strike when he gets hostage of that flaw So he waited. He took down notes mentally. He acted normally by their standards. He waited for the opportunity.

Three weeks after the endless mind games and seclusion, he finally ran away.

 

 

* * *

 

Misa was learning to adore her husband each day. She felt that maybe she could have a good life after all. Near barely pulled away from her embraces. He didn't feign interest on the opposite wall anymore when she would look into his eyes.

He touched her more often. When he wanted to speak with her, he'd touch her arm lightly. When he wanted her to fix his tie, he'd take her hands and direct her to his neck. Misa thought with dread that he might just _learn to love her_.

She lay awake beside him one night, watching his features soften with slumber. She kissed his forehead and breathed in his scent one last time before she retired to sleep as well.

"You were right again, Near," she said. "You'll soon own me."

On the other side of an unknown world, a man she loved for so long escapes escaped his sentence and wandered in the city, tormented but free.

 

* * *

 

The shinigami Ryuk visited Near that morning before the dinner party, as his wife was taking a shower. He simply appeared in the window, staring at the boy.

Near noticed him. He smiled.

"So you kept it?"

The albino detective reached for something underneath his rubble of robot toys and puzzle. He raised it to Ryuk's view.

"A piece of paper." Near answered.

The sly shinigami laughed so hard that he was spinning in the air. He stopped and went closer, eyes piercing the boy. "So that's why we're having this conversation. You never burned it."

"Because it's not over." Near replied. He waved the small piece of paper. "And this is hers, not mine. She confessed that she possessed it when we interrogated her."

"So she remembers too, just because of that tiny piece she kept?"

Near looked at the bathroom, hearing the water pouring and his wife humming some happy song. "My guess is when she delivered the notebook to Mikami, she kept a piece to remember every detail. She was playing along with everybody. She still knew Light was Kira. She still knew everything all that time."

"Impressive." Ryuk laughed. "You two have never relinquished the past. You deserve each other."

Near leaned back on the bedpost and smiled. "Like I said, it's not over."

The shinigami shared his glowing gaze as Near's smirk widened. "All we need to do is wait for him to make a move."

The smirk didn't falter. "Then the real game begins..."


	8. Chapter 8

 

_Hope decays; generations disappear,_

_Washed away as a nation simply stares_

_Don't want to reach for me, do you?_

_I mean nothing to you_

_The little things give you away_

_And now there will be no mistaking_

_The levees are breaking_

_-"Little things give you away"-_

**8) The Act of Repentance**

 

* * *

 

 

Near was nine years old when he realized he wanted to become an architect.

He always had an insistent fondness for toys. He found simple joy from constructing anything he knew he could build with his own hands. The kids in the orphanage didn't like him. He wanted to know what might be wrong with him that other children refused to get to know him but understanding people is not as easy as putting pieces of puzzles in a board. Near never knew what make people what they are so he dwelled on one thing he could control and that were his selection of toys and gadgets. People describe being "in the zone" when you are trapped into doing what you love the most and Near felt that sense. Accomplishment, hobby or an obsession, Near knew he wanted to build and assemble things.

Christmas of 2004 brought him advantage to work on a dice tower since nobody forced him to join the other kids for games. He was asked to participate in the exchanging of gifts, however. He picked Mello's name. It was the first time they ever met and he could easily tell that the blonde rascal dislikes him. Near remembers Mello from the playpen room. He would sneak glances at the younger boy too often but he never approached him. It perplexed Near. Mello became one of his hobbies since then.

The caretakers let the kids go around London to buy gifts for their selected classmate. Near walked around with a young, freckled-face chambermaid named Allison. Near contemplated about Mello. He knew that he hangs out with that redhead computer geek Matt. As he searched the boutique stores for something to buy, Near realized he wasn't good as picking any stuff for a boy he barely knew. Something pushed him to approach a small store in the corner. Allison stayed behind him as Near eyed a silver cross among the jumble of other necklaces. He took it carefully and showed it to Allison who nodded courteously and bought it for him. When they got back to Wammy's House, she placed it inside a small wooden box, helped him wrap it in an orange parcel and finally tied a blue ribbon around it.

Near and Mello turned out to have picked each other's names. They stood there in the middle as the children circled around them excitedly. There were rumors that one of them could succeed the great L someday. Near felt Mello's eyes bore into him as he handed his gift. Mello took it weakly and tossed Near his own gift which the younger boy caught with both hands. Mello hurriedly opened it and a faint blush spread on his cheeks. He looked at Near and almost reluctantly, he said, "How'd ya know I'm Catholic?"

Near looked down with his finger curling a strand of his silver hair, "Last week in Philosophy class, you were passionate about Immanuel Kant and St. Thomas Aquinas' views on realm of consciousness and morality."

Mello hid another blush. "Oh, that. I just needed a high recitation score."

Near said nothing. Then Mello said. "Well, open yours!"

Near blinked and looked down at the rectangular package. The kids around them murmured to themselves. Near carefully unwrapped his present. He held it up and said, "Ayn Rand?"

"She migrated from Russia and she is also into philosophy. I really liked that book, you know, especially the lead character. He was an architect...kind of a lot like you sometimes..." Mello's voice trailed off when he started feeling silly. He didn't know Near. He just watched him a lot and that was all to it.

Near held _Fountainhead_ closer and said, "It seems like an interesting story."

Mello scoffed and turned away, wearing the silver cross since that day.

When Near was not playing with his customized aircraft, he would read the book religiously. He finally understood what Mello meant, comparing him with the lead character. He liked the aspirations and the visionary aspect of that character's personality. He looked across the unfinished dice tower from the corner beside his bed and sighed.

Near was nine years old when he realized he wanted to become an architect. Somehow it has nothing to do with Mello at all but sometimes he did have something to do with everything Near has chosen to become.

He wished to be standing on Mello's gravesite today. So Near left Misa sleeping soundly on the bed to take a stroll to the secret place.

Near asked Roger to build a phony one in the Wammy's House since Mello's body burned into ashes when he sacrificed himself to solve the Kira case. Near had several phony graves for Mello in other countries (including Japan) and on this particular day, he chose to have one in New York as a permanent memento. He asked Ian many times to bring chocolate bars to it when the whim suits him. Near knew it was a very stupid habit of his but he never planned on stopping.

The unfinished cup of hot chocolate was still there. Near stared at a dead dragonfly swimming on it. He wished Mello a safe trip to Czechoslovakia since he knew from Matt that Mello wanted to be back home someday and Near could only guess that even in death, Mello still wasn't home.

Emotion or some sort of mystic hunch, maybe, but Near didn't view his own version of sentimental sap to be ridiculous. He misses Mello now. He misses him everyday because he was still the boy he barely knew.

The last image he had of Mello was his gun pointed behind his head. Then the steady face of the older boy as he looked at his picture Near kept all along with him. Near remembered the anger in Mello's speech as if he really wanted Near's defeat. He remembered that even when Mello seemed to feverously condemn him, he kept wearing the silver cross from years ago and perhaps that softened Near. Maybe that made Near miss him so much today and the days after that.


End file.
